


Of Ravens, Moths, and Eagles

by TheWolfWhoWaited



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: A healthy mix of both, F/M, Game Lore, M/M, Multi, OT3, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance I guess?, Vampires, Witcheress because they do exist in canon kinda but also fuck canon lol, Witchers Have Feelings (The Witcher), because fuck those bullshit endings am i right, blood and wine- everyone lives, book lore, can we just all hug dettlaff pls he didnt deserve any of that, follows blood and wine for the most part then drops off into the abyss, look blood and wine is just a big mess i love it, ot3 for days, probably a little smut???, rip my boy regis, slow to update for a hot while, vampires going feral
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:40:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22857919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWolfWhoWaited/pseuds/TheWolfWhoWaited
Summary: Upon hearing about attacks from a beast in Beauclair, witcheress and vampire specialist Asha makes her way to Toussaint, because if anything the wine is good, right?What she does not expect is the mess she ends up falling into, and especially not the aftermath.
Relationships: Dettlaff van der Eretein/Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy, Dettlaff van der Eretein/Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy/Original Female Character, Dettlaff van der Eretein/Original Female Character(s), Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy/Original Female Character(s), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 82
Kudos: 84





	1. Storms and Acquaintances

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the always amazing aureliu_s! Go check out their wonderful works!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A storm rages, and Regis finds himself with an unwanted guest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! This started as a hyperfixation brainchild that wouldn't go away and demanded to be written, which admittedly is a problem when you have most of a senior portfolio left to finish,,,, but! I need to take more breaks and this is a good way to make art that's not just for an assignment! This is probs gonna be really, really slow to update, like, maybe once a month slow until the very end of may when I (finally) graduate. 
> 
> Anywho, hope y'all enjoy, so far its been fun to write!

The summer storm howled outside, giving the Mère-Lachaiselongue Cemetery a far more eerie gloom than it was used to. Night was falling fast, the black and angry clouds blocking out the sun. Geralt was to be here soon, though the pale mare that was being led by a waterlogged individual to the mausoleum for shelter could not be Roach, nor Geralt, as the figure was much too short, and the deep green cloak not of Geralt either.

Vanishing into a cloud of blue-black mist, Regis observed the cloaked figure as they entered the dark stone tomb that hid his new home as a particularly loud crash of thunder rumbled overhead, spooking the horse.

The figure threw off the hood, and gently pulled on the gathered reins, stroking the mare's snout, fingers lit up with a gentle light. "Hush now Grey Wind, it's alright girl."

The stranger, a woman with soaked, golden blond hair pulled up off her neck in a braided bun, falling out more than it was still up. She shrugged out of her soaked cloak, revealing the leather, mail, and armored plate underneath.

Water dripped off her, the sound lost in the torrent of rain outside. It was hard to believe such a beautiful day turned into a raging thunderstorm, but sometimes the summers of Toussaint were a fickle mistress. The woman sighed, and ran a hair through her soaked hair, pulling out the leather tie with some difficulty, rung her locks out of the excess water, and pulled it back up. 

She grabbed her sword, no, _swords_ from their spot on the saddle, and buckled the crossbelt on, two sword hilts resting on her back like they belonged there. She peered into the darkness of the crypt, and drew her sword; silver, Regis noted. The way her eyes glowed in the dark confirmed what he knew to be true the second he saw the swords: this woman was a witcher.

She tied up the horse, and turned her attention back to the dark. "I'll be back girl, gotta make sure we don't have any angry residents." she murmured to the horse. Regis hovered, not near but near enough, as she silently crept through the mausoleum, before she stumbled on his quarters. She paused when seeing the light, and when it was apparent there was no one home, she began to investigate, silver sword loose in her grip.

"This candle hasn't been lit long," she crossed the room to where he had been writing mere moments before. "And this ink is still drying." her voice was quiet, almost as if she was muttering to herself, not unlike his dear friend often did.

She poked around for a few moments, eyeing his books and herbs, muttering to herself about what kind of person would choose to live in a mausoleum in Toussaint.

Regis's attention was brought to a slight movement out of the corner of his eye, well, consciousness in mist form, in the form of Geralt, sword drawn and sneaking up on his uninvited guest.

To his surprise, she threw something at Geralt, who swiped and blocked it with his sword. She charged, stopping short before their swords could cross, bewilderment on her face.

"Who are you?" Geralt asked, and Regis decided now was the time to return to the ground, behind the woman, out of her sight.

"Asha of Kovir, and you- you're the White Wolf." She relaxed her stance, sheathing her blade, Geralt doing the same.

"Been a while since I've seen a witcheress. Thought there wasn't anymore." he bent down, retrieved her dagger, returning it to her. "Nice throw, by the way."

She returned it to its sheath of her hip, another resting on her opposite hip. Likely one of steel and one of silver, Regis guessed. "Witchers are rare, ones like me, even rarer."

Geralt's eyes flickered to Regis over her shoulder, and she turned around.

Her cat eyes took him in, her eyes locking to his hands, his claws, then flickered to the ground where his shadow should be, and her face grew grim before reaching over her shoulder for her sword again, and again drawing her dagger.

"A fucking vampire." she hissed.

Regis held up his hands. "Now wait, I was kind enough to not ask you to leave my home- as you are in fact intruding- I ask that you put your sword away, I don't want to have to do something rash."

"Shut it, bloodsucker."

Geralt drew his sword and stood between Asha and Regis. "Put it down. I'm only gonna ask once."

"He's a vampire!"

"He's my friend. Down, now."

She glared at the vampire over the other witcher's shoulder.

"Fine, but he'll kill you, they can't be trusted."

"Not to speak to others of my kind, my dear, but I assure you, I'm more harmless to you than fly."

"And I'm the Empress of Nilfgaard."

"Why are you here?" Geralt interrupted, also sheathing his blade.

"The storm. Wasn't my intention to sleep in a crypt tonight."

"Well, the both of you are welcome to stay here for the night, it's likely to be a long one”, Regis supplied

“Likely one to put me in the grave.” Asha muttered.

Regis went back to his makeshift desk, to his mortar and pestle, and began to grind up some dried herbs.

Geralt went about stripping out of his soaked armor, and Regis heard his new guest leave, coming back a few minutes later in a fresh set of clothes.

She snagged a rough-hewn stool and set about caring for her swords, same as Geralt.

“This is Regis, by the way.” Geralt said in his deadpan.

“Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy, actually, but please call me Regis.” He smiled, lips pursed. 

She simply stared him down from the stool.

Silence descended over the crypt.

“So,” she started, breaking the tense silence. “I heard there was a beast stalking Beauclair, sending all the nobles into a fuss.”

“The duchess hired me to deal with him.”

“Do you need a second? It’s your contract, I’ll take less. I’m sure she’s paying you generously.” She didn’t miss how Geralt and Regis shared a look.

“The situation is minutely more complicated than just a simple contract.”

“I wasn’t asking you.”

“Regis is right.”

“And how is it terribly complicated?”

Regis looked conflicted; his brow furrowed. “The Beast of Beauclair is a vampire, a higher vampire. One I’m rather close with. He would never do this without something being wrong-“

“Of course you would say that.”

“He doesn’t know how to ask for help. Dettlaff is…he’s naive about the mortal world. He doesn’t understand lying, betrayal from those he cares about, deception in general. Everything is very black and white to him.”

“Am I supposed to have a bleeding heart for the woes of a monster?”

Regis sighed and shook his head. “I know he had taken a liking to a human woman a few years back, but she left him. He thinks something happened to her, and he’s been agitated ever since. But I theorize that something might have happened to her.”

“You think he’s being blackmailed?” Geralt asked.

“What sort of stupid woman gets involved with a vampire?” Asha spat.

“I do, Geralt. And I will admit, my dear, that it’s not terribly common for a higher vampire to take a human lover, not for anything longer than a short fling for the human anyway. Your lives are too short and fragile, the heartbreak too much to bear for it to be worth it. Besides, she was aware of his nature from the beginning, from what Dettlaff told me.”

“Then she’s even more an idiot.”

“The bottom line is,” Regis continued, “I think it might be best you move on, given your hostility towards those of my kind.”

“Or, I’m the best vampire hunter from Kovir to Nazair, and that might just come in handy. Besides, contract or not, I’m not going to let a vampire terrorize a city.”

Geralt stared at her. He had his reservations about this Dettlaff. Having her along might not be the worst thing, though her antagonizing of Regis would have to stop. “If you do what I say, I’ll split the contract with you.”

“Guess that’s settled then.” She glanced at the vampire, a scowl on his face.

“Geralt, are you certain this is the best idea?”

“If you’re right Regis, then whoever is blackmailing a higher vampire isn’t a common criminal. Asha, I do ask that you and Regis at least…work something out.”

“As long as he keeps his fangs to himself, I won’t do anything.”

“I assure you my dear, I keep to myself.”

“Congratulations.” She remarked, a stony expression on her face.

This was going to be a touch more difficult now.

“Well Geralt, did you find anything in your investigation earlier? Aside from Dettlaff that is.”

The witcher rummaged in his pack, producing an object wrapped in a dirty cloth, and handed it to Regis.

“De la Croix was chopped into pieces, they brought the pieces to Corvo Bianco, thought it was odd De la Croix had three hands, thought it was even stranger that a Bruxa took an interest in it.”

Regis took the hand and unwrapped it as Geralt spoke. He sniffed the appendage. “This is Dettlaff’s, no doubt about it.” He took the ring from one of the fingers.

“I’ve never seen a metal like that before.” Geralt remarked.

Asha kept a healthy distance from the vampire, but stood a little closer to get a look at hand.

“That’s because it’s from our homeland. It was mine, I gave it to him to remind him of his humanity.”

“A vampire can’t have humanity, you’re not human.” The witcheress spat.

“Nevertheless, this will do nicely to find Dettlaff.”

The vampire explained the Resonance elixir, and how they would need to find a spotted wight, a task both witchers deemed impossible, but Regis assured them that when the storm passed, he would set about asking his feathered friends for some help locating one.

The thunder rumbled outside, and the three fell into a silence for a while.

Geralt finished with his blades and made some dinner with some of his rations, keeping to himself, though Regis did want to catch up with his old friend later, perhaps when they were in less hostile company.

Regis looked up from the mixture he was grinding into a fine powder, to observe his and Geralt's new addition to their quest to find Dettlaff.

She was methodically cleaning her twin swords and sharpening them, more meticulous than he had seen even Geralt.

She looked, softer almost, now that she wasn't nearly hissing at him, silver sword poised to take his head from his shoulders. That would have been dreadfully inconvenient for that to happen. Again.

Soft was the wrong word to describe her, Regis surmised. There was nothing soft about Asha of Kovir. Stripped down to a fresh undershirt, since her leather jerkin was soaked through, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, front laces loose and near dangerously so, the hard planes of muscle coiling and rippling under pale, scarred skin. Her cat-eyed gaze would likely give the Wild Hunt pause, icy and cold as the White Frost despite the natural eternal light and shine that gave Witchers their unnatural appearance.

She wasn’t what the lords or ladies of a court would call beautiful, nor likely many common folk either. Her features were strangely delicate and feminine, in stark contrast to the rest of her. A long, silvery scar marred the right side of her face, starting above her brow, and slicing down her cheek, close to her nose, and through her lips. The scar looked old, and not terribly deep to begin with, but it made her stick out, much like Geralt. Three jagged lines on her left side, back towards her ear started a few inches above her jaw, the marks continuing down her neck at an odd angle, and Regis guessed there were matching claw marks on her shoulder and collarbone. And on both sides of her neck, he could make out the tell-tale crescents of vampire bites. He nearly shuddered at the thought of that many of them. He could pick out at least five distinct marks, quite a few layered on top of the others. 

Asha had a stocky build, she wasn’t short but not tall either, with wide shoulders, wide hips, and a more narrow waist, her frame perfect for carrying muscle, unlike his own tall and lanky frame.

Sensing his dark eyes on her, she paused her whetstone, those cat eyes flicking up to his own.

"Got a problem?”

“Not at all, I’ve just never seen a witcheress before.”

“We exist.”

“Are you rare because they don’t take in girls or-“

“It’s because we’re even less likely to survive the trials.” Her answer was clipped, short, and clearly not wanting to talk.

He wanted to ask her about the marks on her neck, about exactly how many vampires had tried and failed to kill her, but he held his tongue. His curiosity would only antagonize her, and they had fallen into an uncomfortable sort of truce—at least for the time being.

* * *

Night had well and truly fallen, but still the storm raged.

Geralt had long found himself a nice, not-too-damp corner to roll out his bedroll, but the same could not be said for Asha.

Despite the rain making the lower floor damp, she elected to stay down here, as far from Regis as possible.

And, the vampire noted, every time he moved, she would wake, her eyes shining at the edge of the light, watching him, making sure he wasn’t near her.

“You know I’m not going to hurt you.” He said to her, quietly to not wake Geralt.

“I don’t know that, actually.”

Regis shook his head. “I assure you-“

“You think I’ll trust your assurances?” she hissed. “There’s nothing you can do to make me trust you.”

Going back to his tome, he gently shook his head. What a predicament they found themselves in.

He knew that he would have to find a suitable substitute for the blood of a frenzied vampire, though so far his research had come up empty. If Asha wasn’t here, it would be easier. Geralt would do as he asked. But this witcheress and her hatred for vampires… this greatly complicated things.

The second he suggested no alternative, he knew her protests would likely be more akin to threats. Which Regis couldn’t blame her, a frenzied vampire was quite possibly the most dangerous opponent a witcher could face. He had a plan of course, one that was foolproof, but it was still a last resort.

She had seemingly fallen back asleep, though he thought he saw her eyes flutter at every turn of the page.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and rain echoed through the crypt as it still pelted the cemetery outside.

Soon, he exhausted this tome as well and shut it with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was the wee hours of the morning, and the call of sleep pulled to him. He would speak with Geralt and the witcheress tomorrow about the Resonance, and hopefully find what he was looking for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are super appreciated!! 
> 
> Come yell at me on tumblr @elventhief! I take requests!


	2. La Cage Au Fou

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The quest to get the ingredients for Resonance, conversations are had, mandrake brew is passed, curses broken, and tensions rise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello, hello! This is a bit of a longer chapter, I thought about splitting it up but this quest is pretty long in itself, so I left it as is!
> 
> With the end of Winter Quarter, and now on spring break, I'll have a bit more time to work (and that chapter three is basically written lol) hopefully updates will come faster, especially now that I'll be finishing my last quarter of college back home. Everything is a bit of a mess when out of the 15 classes your major offers, 9 of them are outright canceled because we don't have access to the building :(
> 
> It's big scary out there, everyone be safe!!
> 
> Beta'd by the always wonderful aureliu_s!
> 
> Also this chapter is rather plot and quest heavy, so it has a lot of dialogue from the actual game in it, sorry if that bothers anyone!

The storm finally subsided around the time dawn broke. Regis stirred first, sleep wasn’t a terrible necessity for him, and he took it upon himself to make some breakfast for his guests. Asha woke when he did from what he could tell, her eyes shining in the dark at the edge of the few candelabra’s he left lit.

Geralt woke soon after, and they ate in silence.

“Well, if you’ll come with me I shall enlist some help in tracking down a mamune, wight or what have you.”

“And what kind of help is that?” Asha asked, skepticism on her face as the three climbed the steps back to the cemetery.

“You’ll see, my dear.”

“Stop calling me that.” She muttered.

Regis strolled through gravestones, and seemingly spoke to a raven.

“What was that about?” Geralt asked the vampire.

“A raven. Devilishly clever creatures. I sent him to go get some of his fellows and look for anything we can use. A flock of ravens will cover more ground than a lone witcher, even two for that matter.”

The vampire took a seat on one of the raised stone sarcophagi, uncorked the bottle he had snagged from his makeshift home, gesturing for Geralt and Asha to sit. Geralt took a seat across from Regis, though Asha just stared at the vampire and scoffed when he offered her the bottle.

Reigs and Geralt talked for a time, waiting on the raven to return. Asha alternated between pacing and doing some sword drills against a phantom monster, when Geralt’s question made her pause in her sword strokes.

“Isn’t there another way we can make Dettlaff appear? Force him out?”

“There is… there is a being that can compel Dettlaff-“

“No.” Asha interrupted. Both men’s attention switched to her. “We’re absolutely _not_ doing that.”

Regis’s brows shot up. “And you know of this, how?”

“I’ve been threatened to be taken to some creature even higher vampires are scared of. I’m not an idiot to think that this isn’t the same creature, or at least same type of creature.”

“Then you, my dear, walk a very slack line across a chasm of molten lava.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“What is this monster then?” Geralt asked.

“Nothing you need concern yourself with, Geralt. We will do this my way, as it will be quicker, easier, and all of us will come out of this alive.”

“For once, I’ll agree. We are very much not doing that.” Regis gave her a small smile. “This doesn’t make us friends, vampire.” She went back to her drills.

The witcher and vampire chatted a bit more until the mandrake brew was gone, to which Geralt elected to nap against a headstone, and Asha finally stopped fidgeting and pacing, instead kneeling in a soft but rather wet patch of grass for some meditation.

The raven came back, and the creature’s soft wing flaps stirred Asha from her meditations. She stood and brushed off her trousers, the leather and metal plate that armored her legs and boots keeping most of the damp off of her. She glanced to the still-napping witcher.

“He must really trust you to sleep that deeply.” She remarked. “I know I wouldn’t.”

Her voice must have stirred the witcher, because soon Geralt’s cat eyes also opened.

“Such light sleepers, the both of you. Do they administer any of our genes during the Trial of the Grasses?” Regis asked, stroking the bird.

“Not to my knowledge.” Geralt grumbled.

“Well, it seems we’re in luck, by the way. My feathered friend here said he spotted a rather spotted wight, and not too far from here.”

“That’s impossible.” Asha said, crossing her arms.

“They were all wiped out by our brothers before we were even born.” Geralt added.

“Yes, well, I’m quite certain there is a spotted wight here. My friend here found a rather run down home, covered in… spoons? Yes, spoons. I also seem to remember a local telling me about how there was a cursed property in the Caroberta Woods, perhaps these spoons and this wight are connected to it?”

“What was this curse?” Geralt asked.

“I don’t really remember to be completely honest.”

“There’s gotta be something.” The witcher pressed.

“I don’t tend to clutter my mind with every folk tale that I come across in every little village I’m afraid. Though I do recall that it might have had something to do with a beggar? Or a merchant? And an heiress. That is really all I remember I’m afraid.”

“Guess I’ll see if I can either break the curse or I’ll bring you it’s salivary glands.”

“You mean we. I’m coming with.” Asha said.

“Actually, I need some assistance in gathering some missing components for Resonance, if you wouldn’t mind staying and assisting me, my dear.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sure, why not. Bench me. You got a list?” she bit out.

“I can write it down for you.”

“I’ll be back when I have the glands, or some of the wight’s brew if it exists.” Geralt said, going to his horse and mounting it, and left to go deeper into the woods.

Asha followed Regis back into the crypt, where the vampire wrote down the missing herbs and handed the scrap of parchment to her, which she snatched and stalked out of his home, grumbling the whole time.

* * *

A few hours later, Regis heard footsteps coming down the old stone stairs, and he glanced up from his tome.

“Had I known you were going to sit on your ass the entire time and make me do the dirty work,” she tossed the plants on his desk, fingers covered in soil, “I would have went with Geralt.”

“I may be sitting but I assure you, I’m trying to find a suitable substitute for our last ingredient, as getting it will be rather… unpleasant.”

“What is it?” she asked, washing her hands in a bucket of water.

“Well, aside from a bit of tissue from the hand, we also need a bit of blood from the same species as the tissue used.”

“For once it’s good there’s more than one vampire involved then.”

“Yes, but…”

“But? Get to the point.”

“I will explain when Geralt returns. No sense in explaining it twice.”

“Fine.” She stalked away to the other side of the crypt.

Regis shook his head and began to prepare the herbs and plants she had brought back for him. There was no possible way she was going to go with his plan to get the last ingredient they needed.

His only hope was to get Geralt to go with it, and she would either go with it, or leave. Both, he surmised, were not terrible outcomes. 

* * *

Dusk had long since fallen, and with the fallen sun, the witcheress began to pace.

“Where is he? I knew I should have went with him.”

“Have faith my dear. Geralt will return to us, he always does.”

She stopped her pacing and looked up at him from below. “I’ve heard stories of the White Wolf, and heard about what happened on Skellige. If Geralt can face down the King of the Wild Hunt, I’m sure he can handle a spotted wight.”

“Perhaps he’s ran into some difficulties with breaking the curse? They can be quite tricky sometimes.”

She made a non-committal noise and resumed her pacing.

This continued for a few more minutes.

“Pacing is only going to wear the stones down more than they already are.” He called from his desk, stirring the beginning stages of Resonance.

“Then send out one of your birds to find him and I’ll stop pacing.” She stopped then. “Better yet, I’ll do it. I’ll be back.”

“Where-“ he started, but her receding footsteps up the stairs quieted him. The vampire sighed and went back to the brew. “Impatient witchers.” He muttered.

* * *

She returned after a few hours, without Geralt in tow.

“Nothing, I assume?” he asked at her approach.

She gave an affirmative noise and slouched in a nearby chair.

“He’ll come back.”

“Yes, but the quicker he is, the faster I can leave.”

“I know your distaste for me is likely founded but-“

“But nothing. We’re not friends. Don’t try to figure out why I don’t like you. It’s not personal, I don’t like any vampires.”

Regis knew he could be stubborn, but he also knew when to quit. And this was the time to. There was no sense in trying to change her mind, it was clear that she had quite the past with others of his kind, ones that had quite literally left their scars on her. Still, he found himself curious about this witcheress. Namely one reason, he had never seen one before. It stands to reason that she isn’t the only one, but he thought back to what she had said the day previous, how there never were many to begin with. 

The medallion around her neck was that of an eagle, and she said she was from Kovir, so she was of the school of the Gryphon then. Regis tried to recall any information he knew about the gryphon school, but nothing immediately came to mind. Later, he’d ask Geralt about it; perhaps it would lend to the understanding of her better.

She began to care for her swords again, the metal shining in the dim light of the crypt.

“You know, over polishing a sword can actually damage it.” He said after a long silence.

“I ran into some Archespores in the woods looking for your plants.”

“They didn’t give you much trouble I hope?”

“Annoying, but not the worst I’ve dealt with. I haven’t fought one in years. I usually don’t go this far south.”

Ah, so she can hold a conversation without spitting venom. “Why are you this far south now, if you don’t mind me asking?”

She glanced up at him. “Redania.”

“Forgive me, but I’ve been rather out of recent politics as of late.”

“Radovid is a zealot and he’s letting the witch hunters have the run of Novigrad and Oxenfurt, and they’re branching out more. They haven’t given me much trouble but it’s just easier to avoid them. And I decided I didn’t want to freeze my ass off this winter.”

“But it’s the middle of summer?”

“And Toussaint tends to not get the biting cold that Kovir gets, all the time. Plus, with Emhyr gone, and Nilfgaard scrambling, monsters tend to crop up because no one deals with them. And they usually pay well.”

“Fair enough. Do you speak Nilfgaardian?”

“Nope. Figured I’d learn or deal with it.”

“They say the best way to learn a language is through assimilation.”

“Mhmmhm.” 

“Well I wish you luck in that, hopefully this unfortunate event that’s led us to meet is solved soon.”

She paused in her work, looking up at him, and they locked eyes.

Her eyes weren’t the same shade of yellow as Geralt’s. Hers were darker, more akin to gold than yellow. She looked as if she was going to say something, but decided not to.

Another long silence stretched on.

“If I could speak freely?”

She sighed. “You will anyway.”

“Before all of this is over, I hope that though you will not call me friend, you at least know that there are some of us that just want to live in this little ever-changing world of yours.”

She stared at him, and he saw her pupils constrict as she stared at him for a long while. “We’ll see.” Her voice was dripping in derision and sarcasm, so Regis dropped it.

He didn’t know why he was suddenly so determined to change her mind.

Perhaps it’s because there were so few witchers left? Her comments about how others of his kind had threatened her with an Unseen Elder worried him. Despite her distaste for him, she seemed rather likable, with at least some sense of humor, as she and Geralt had joked a bit the night before.

He was hopeful that he had made at least a little progress, as she _was_ at least willing to hold a conversation with him for at least a short while.

Regis just hoped that what little progress made wouldn’t be lost after what would come in the next several days to acquire the last part needed for Resonance.

* * *

Geralt returned to the crypt early in the afternoon the next day, where he explained where he had disappeared to.

“You said that the man was… a merchant of some kind?” Asha asked. Geralt handed Regis the vial of the wight’s brew.

“A peddler more like, from what she said. Why?”

Asha shook her head. “It’s nothing, I just dealt with a fellow a couple years back that had a penchant for mirrors, curses, and just general assholery.”

“Dealt?” Regis asked.

“He’s… dead isn’t the right word. I don’t think he can die. But he won’t be cursing people anymore, not for a long time anyway.”

“Right, well, to business then. The last ingredient we need is some blood of the same species.”

“Good thing we know of a vampire willing to help.” Geralt said.

“It’s not that simple, I’m afraid. We vampires can change our corporeal shell, so to speak. As our flesh changes, so does our blood’s chemical composition. Dettlaff would have been in a state of great agitation, one of which I will also have to be in in order to finish Resonance.” Asha’s eyes narrowed at his words, her arms crossed. “In short, I will have to be put in a state of strong psychokinetic arousal, madness, rabidity. And that stands to be very, very dangerous.”

“You’re damn right it does.” Asha spat. “Under no circumstances am I letting a blood crazed vampire loose on the countryside.”

Regis sighed. “I’ve thought of how to do this very thoroughly. Near here is Tesham Mutna, an ancient vampire estate. There we will find cages suspended in the air, I will enter one, be confined. Then you two will lure beasts there. Beasts you will then kill. The bloodletting should prove profuse. Abundant enough so that the blood’s scent will drive me mad, wild.”

“That’s _torture_.”

“Your concern for my well being is appreciated my dear, but-“

“It’s not concern for you, it’s not trusting you as far as I could throw you. No sentient, sane creature would willingly put itself through a torture like that and not have some kind of motive beyond what you’re telling us.”

“You think I play a long game?”

“You’re damn right I do.”

“Asha, I’ve known Regis a long time, he’s not like that.”

“I have a debt to Dettlaff, and this will help find him, so I can help him in return as he has helped me. That is all.”

Regis saw her jaw clench and unclench several times as she shook her head, a hand running though her plaited hair, pushing stray golden curls back.

“If you get out of that cage, if I see you as any threat to myself or Geralt, I’ll take your head from your shoulders, do I make myself clear?”

“I’m afraid to say that at the state my humble being will be reduced to, you will likely not get the chance to try, should things go that awry.”

“I’ve dealt with a rabid higher vampire before, came out alive.”

“How?” Geralt asked.

“She gave me this,” she gestured to the claw marks that raked across her jaw, across her neck, into her shoulder. “And I took a running leap off a cliff. She caught me off guard, I was hunting a wounded Forktail. Smell of blood drew her.” She gave Regis a pointed look. “I won’t be off guard, and I’m a couple decades older now.”

“Tesham Mutna, tell us about it.” Geralt said.

Regis sighed. “It is a place of torment, a torture chamber. Long ago, shortly after we’d arrived in this world, one among us named Khagmar developed such a taste and lust for human blood that in one night he could imbibe an entire village. His actions brought trouble on the entire species. The common folk wearied quickly of living in constant fear. They began to hunt us, seeking out the aid of mages and witchers in tracking us down.”

“Too bad it’s not permanent.” Asha muttered.

“Yes, but if you will forgive the comparison, but when was the last time you enjoyed a fly buzzing around your head?”

“Watch it.” the witcheress hissed.

“The others knew Khagmar had to be dealt with, but according to our laws he could not be killed. So they caught and punished him.”

“And so the old vampires built a dungeon to torture one of their own in the same way you’re about to do to yourself. And humans truly are the barbaric race.”

“An astute observation. Yes, in essence, that is what we will be doing.”

“Are you sure about this Regis?” Geralt asked.

“Am I sure this will work? Yes. But this is not something I willingly submit to. This is born out of necessity.”

“Alright, let’s go then. No point in delaying anymore.” Geralt said.

“Right, one last thing.” Regis grabbed a vial off his desk and downed it.

“What was that?” Geralt asked.

“Blood. A last favor from one of the ravens. I’ve also taken some sangurium. One drop should smell like a gallon to me now.”

“Are you _mad_?” Asha snapped.

“It would take several hours for it to go into effect if I waited until we got there, but that does not mean we should dawdle.”

“Regis, you’re a recovering addict, this wasn’t a good idea.”

“ _What?”_

“We can speak about it later, after this. I’ll be fine, Geralt. A few drops of raven’s blood won’t make me relapse. This is the only way.”

“Regis…” Geralt said

“The die is cast, my friend. We should leave, now. My head is beginning to spin.”

“And you’re starting to scare me.”

* * *

Regis rode behind Geralt, as he knew sharing a horse with the witcheress, especially in the state he was currently in, would likely prove a trifle bothersome if she would make true on her promise.

Even now he was having a bit of a hard time keeping himself steady, being so close to Geralt. He cared for his friend deeply, but he was glad for once that the smell of the Path was overwhelmingly strong, clinging to his armor, horse and the witcher in question.

Asha on the other hand… it was clear she valued her hygiene more than Geralt, judging by the soaps Regis could smell-- even from where he was-- coming from one of her saddlebags, and the smell of the famous Toussaint lavender that he was certain came from her hair. And under that, under everything else was the scent of blood, something he had not actively craved since he crawled out of his own grave, all those years ago.

Witchers, he decided, smelled very different than a normal human, and it only made sense that they did. They were mutated humans, genes and mutagens forced into their bodies to change them, make them as they are.

A breeze brought her scent to him in force, and Regis grit his teeth, his hand that wasn’t holding onto the swordstrap on Geralt’s back curling into a fist.

She smelled like fire, a strong breeze, but it was tinged with that crackle of power that magic users had. Under that though, she smelled strongly like that of a bird’s blood, a raptor, which was… odd, to say the least. Witchers were a cocktail of all sorts of indistinguishable scents, but it was no less mouthwatering.

Regis clenched his jaw so tight he feared his teeth would crack, as her eyes darted over to him, as they had the entire way thus far. She seemed both wary and angry, her anger silent and simmering, distrust in her eyes.

Soon enough, but far too long as far as Regis was concerned, they made it to the ruins of Tesham Mutna.

They left their horses tied up near the well of the crumbling ruin’s courtyard, and Regis directed them to the hidden door.

“The chamber lies underground.” He said, his voice pitching lower than normal. He had been quiet the whole journey, unless giving directions to Geralt, the vampire focusing on self-control rather than being his chatty self.

“Sure you know what you’re doing?” Geralt asked.

“I can only hope I do. Please, let’s go? The longer we delay, the less control I shall have of my faculties. I’d really prefer not to hurt you both.”

Asha’s hand rested comfortably on her silver dagger, her muscles taught like a bowstring. “This was a bad idea.”

“You lead, Regis.” Geralt said. The witcher kneeled at some tracks near the crumbling wall. “Scurvers, must be close to their hunting ground.”

Regis stood before what looked to be a bricked-up door. “Beyond this wall lies-“

“An ancient vampire torture dungeon.” Asha sneered.

“I’ve seen a lot of things in my time. Nothing quite like this though.”

“My, I feel honored. A man with such a wealth of experience, yet I’m about to show him something new. Now just to open it.” The vampire waved his hand before the wall, and a blood red emblem glowed for a moment before the wall retracted into the ground.

“How did that…” Asha asked.

“It’s an ancient form of protection against unwanted guests. The mechanism which releases the latch reacts only to a higher vampire’s blood.” He took a step inside, and the others followed, and he was very glad they were downwind of him.

“Are there many such places?”

Regis, had his head not been splitting, would have found her curiosity amusing. “There are a few, though all have been long abandoned.”

“Toussaint must have been important to your kind once then.”

Had it been Geralt asking, he knew it would have been simple curiosity, but even with his rather fogged mind, he sensed that she was less curious and more interested for the sake of knowledge, likely to sus out any information that could be useful against his fellow vampires.

Even still, he indulged her. “It shall always be so. During the Conjunction, the gate from our world into this one opened upon this land and no other. This was the first place we saw.”

The ruin was pitch black, and Asha summoned a small ball of fire in her hand, while Geralt lit a torch. 

He heard Asha stop behind him, her steps cutting off short as she stared at the pens.

“They kept people here, I can still smell humans here, it’s in the very stones.” Her voice was low, cold.

Regis shook his head. “A darker chapter in my species’ history.”

“Except it’s still happening. Not ten years ago a higher vampire was kidnapping people, children, raising them in a cave as cattle.”

“What?” Geralt asked.

“Some of them were near blind from being in the darkness their whole lives, others begged me to just kill them.” She gave Regis a pointed glare. “And you wonder why I fucking hate vampires.”

“I trust you put a swift and prolonged temporary end to this vampire?” Regis asked.

“It’ll take a good few hundred years for him to put himself back together.”

“Good.”

Soon enough, they entered a large, domed room with cages, both suspended from the ceiling and ones that had long since fallen to the ground, some even with bones still trapped within.

“Human bones.” Geralt said. “Why are there human bones in cages? Thought you said it was just Khagmar imprisoned here.”

“It’s because they slaughtered humans to torture him. Best way to enrage an addict.” Asha hissed, the fire in her palm jumping in her rage.

“My ancestors were not humanitarians, I’m afraid. I would like to be able to turn back time, to deny it, but alas… I can do neither. I feel shame for my brethren, for that is all I can do.”

“Don’t take it so hard, Regis, nothing you could have done about it. Let’s get to work. Can talk about history later.”

“Yes, here.” Regis rummaged through his satchel and handed the witchers two vials each of the bait. “Spread these around, ideally at the tunnel entrances and we can begin.”

Both witchers set off to their task, the rancid and potent smell of the concoction nearly making Asha gag.

As she made her way back to the center of the room where Regis was, and Geralt coming from the other side, she took a vial of Cat, wanting her full vision in the coming fight.

“Bait’s set, what now?” Geralt asked.

“I shall enter the cage. You shall chain me inside. The bars are made of an alloy that will prevent me from transforming into mist.”

“I kinda thought you wouldn’t want to.” The witcher replied.

“He has to.” Asha said.

“I shall be in great pain,” Regis couldn’t help the way his voice sounded, how he sounded as if he was _already_ in pain. “My sole thought being to stop that pain. I cannot know what I will do.” The vampire tugged on the cage as he entered it, making sure of its integrity before Geralt shut and locked the door behind him.

“We must hurry, the beasts have caught the scent, and my head is _splitting_.”

As Geralt secured the door, Asha locked the cuffs on his wrists, and looked up at him as the vampire inhaled deeply, his dark eyes seemed even darker as he leaned on the bars towards her. Asha took a quick step back and drew her sword, his eyes following her every move.

Geralt’s voice seemed to snap him out of his trance, as the witcher asked, “Is that the blood?”

Regis shook his head. “Someone who’s never experienced a vampire’s bloodlust… does not know the true meaning of thirst.” Geralt pulled the lever on the wall, and the vampire was hoisted into the air as the mechanisms creaked and groaned, and the sounds of necrophages could be heard in the echoing tunnels.

All too soon, dozens of necrophages poured from the holes, and Asha and Geralt got to work.

The ancient cobblestone were quickly drenched in blood and gore, Asha throwing spells around in combination with her lightning-fast sword strikes.

The witchers fought back to back, the numbers quickly starting to become overwhelming as Regis raged and screamed in the rattling cage above them.

“Geralt! Quen! Now!” The witcheress yelled.

The golden flash of the sign lit up the chamber for a moment as Asha thrusted her sword into an algoul and let the blade rest there, when fire erupted from her, shooting out in a huge circle, scorching and burning everything below ten feet in the entire chamber, the smell of blood, gore, and burning flesh filling the dark and dank chamber.

They got a few seconds of reprieve, the witcher looking at the blond witcheress in surprise before more of the monsters were on them, Regis’s howls of anger, pain, and frustration echoing though the space, seemingly reaching a breaking point.

The necrophages seemed frightened at the angry howls of the higher vampire, and turned tail, Asha lunging at a fleeing felder, but the creature was lucky and just barely missed the end of her blade.

Geralt dropped the cage, and the witcher seemed surprised at the state of his friend.

“Regis?”

The feral vampire roared at the witcher, struggling to escape his bonds.

Asha sheathed her blade and drew a dagger and a vial, approaching the cage calmly. This wasn’t the first time she’d seen this.

He hissed and surged forward, knocking the cage forward a bit at her approach. She stared coldly at the vampire, and then took some of his blood, enraging him even further.

“The blood should dry in a few hours, then it shouldn’t bother you anymore.” Geralt told the vampire. “How did you make igni so powerful?” he asked.

Asha shrugged, picking bits of gore off of her leather armor. “My mother was a sorceress, just not a very good one. My signs have always been stronger. And Gryphons are known for their magical ability.”

“Might as well settle in, it’ll be some time before we can leave.” Geralt said as he found a less blood-soaked area to kneel in to meditate.

Asha shook her head. “Not about to let this one go unwatched.”

“Regis is fine.”

“He’s in perhaps his most dangerous state right now.”

The witcher grunted and settled into a deep meditation.

Regis struggled for a bit longer, but soon realized he was stuck, and there was no changing that. He still panted, saliva dripping from fangs and he hissed and lunged anytime Asha moved, but she just paced in front of the cage, eyeing the vampire.

She walked right up to him and looked him in the eye. “Do you even know who I am right now? Will you remember any of this? Remember how much you want to kill me right now? And you wonder why I hate vampires. You parade and act like humans until you decide you want something to eat, and then you kill without mercy, without thought.”

Asha saw no recognition in his eyes. She backed away with a scoff and began to clean her sword with a rag, before resuming her pacing.

* * *

Several hours passed before Regis calmed enough to be let out of the cage, Geralt catching the slumped over man and helping him to his feet.

“Would you-“

“No. I’m not touching him. Not after that. Not after he’s looked like he’s wanted to eat me for most of the day.”

Geralt grunted, and took most of Regis’s weight by himself, though it wasn’t like the vampire was heavy.

“I- I apologize that my actions have caused you distress, my dear.” The vampire both looked and sounded like he was completely out of it, the exact opposite of his usual poised self.

Asha led the way back up the long stairs, a ball of fire lighting the way. 

It was dark when they reached the surface, so they mounted their horses, Regis with a bit of difficulty, and set back off to the cemetery.


	3. Arrows, Bonds, and Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A unfortunate injury results in the game changing for all players involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! Hope everyone is doing well, this chapter is out way earlier than the others because it was mostly written before the first chapter even was lmao. I hope y'all enjoy,,, it sort of sets the stage for the rest of the fic!
> 
> Beta'd by the always wonderful aureliu_s!

It was late when they made it back to the cemetery, exhaustion beginning to creep into her bones. The day had been trying and taxing, but there was one thing she had to do before she let herself rest.

After Geralt had helped Regis sit in his chair by his desk, Asha called up to them.

“I’m going to the river to wash this filth from my hair, Geralt, you’re coming too.”

“I’m fine.” The witcher grunted.

She scoffed. “You smell so bad a vampire didn’t want to eat you, either you bathe or you sleep outside.”

“My friend,” Regis began, “You do smell quite rancid.”

Geralt grunted. “Fine.”

“I can start the concoction, I’ll be fine.” The vampire added.

He didn’t sound all that fine to Asha, but the longer she spent away from him the better, in her opinion.

They walked the short distance to the river together, before turning to give each other some privacy. Geralt was the first out of his armor, not wearing the breastplate and heavier armor like Asha was.

When she was about waist deep in the clear water of the Sansretour, she dove below the surface for a few short moments, coming back up with a soft sigh. The water was still warm from the hot summer sun, though cool enough to be refreshing. She retrieved the small bottle of hair soap from the small leather pouch she had tied to her wrist, so she wouldn’t have to keep going back to the shore for her soaps, and began to scrub all the grime, muck, and blood from her hair.

“Here.” She passed the bottle, her back turned away from him. The witcher glanced back over her shoulder to grab the bottle, and spotted the five long claw marks that racked across her back.

He took a whiff of the bottle. “Smells like flowers.”

“I meant what I said, you will sleep outside.”

He grumbled and washed his hair too, hearing her dive back below the surface to rinse.

“You sound like Yen.” He grumbled.

“Seems like I’d get along with her then.”

“You’d get along well. She’d like you.”

“Maybe one day I’ll get to meet her, and we can team up to nag you until you take an actual bath.”

“You’d nag me about more than that, if Yen has any say.”

Asha chuckled. “I like her already.”

They were silent for a time, before Geralt broke it. “Alp?” He asked, his thoughts going back to the scars across her back. It was something that him, Lambert, and Eskel would do when the would see each other, drink and talk about the contract that gave them a new scar.

He heard her pause, the water going still.

“Bruxa, hurt like a bitch too. It’s why I usually fight in plate if I’m gonna fight vampires. Got tired of getting beat up.”

“Must have fought a lot of them, then.”

“Hundreds, probably. I don’t keep track. Mostly nests of lower ones though, the higher ones like Bruxae and Alps are harder to find, they usually keep to themselves.”

“Must have some kind of personal vendetta, never met another witcher to hate a particular kind of monster before like that.”

“A higher vampire murdered my mother and is the reason I’m like this, so forgive the prejudice.”

“They’re not all bad, Regis for one-“

“And he would have tried to rip my throat out today, in case you didn’t notice.”

“Not all monsters are monsters. Today was extreme circumstances.”

“I just-“ she sighed. “He’s so convincingly human most of the time I almost forget he’s a vampire. I don’t like that.”

“Because it proves that he’s not a bad guy?”

She was silent for a long while.

“Here.” She passed back her bar of soap, which Geralt took.

“If you want out of this contract, I can finish it myself.” He said.

“No, I’m gonna finish it. I don’t care what your bloodsucking friend says, this Dettlaff can’t be let to roam around killing. I can’t let anymore people die because he feels slighted.”

“Just, if he’s not going to fight, don’t pick one. I’m not fighting Regis, and he’ll side with his friend.”

“I know when I’m outmatched. And if you can get him to stop killing and go back into the hole he crawled out of, then I guess I’m going to have to be okay with that.”

Geralt grunted his affirmation. “I’m gonna go back and make sure Regis is alright.”

Asha turned a bit more away from the shore, giving him and herself some privacy. “I’ll be out here a little longer.”

Geralt got out and quickly dried himself enough to get dressed in his undershirt and trousers again, taking his swords and armor back with him.

Asha stared out over the water, the moon nearly full, making the night just a little brighter, not that it bothered her terribly much.

She had scrubbed herself clean to the point her skin was red, but she couldn’t get herself to leave the water.

Things were… troubling to say the least.

She wanted to march into the crypt and demand answers from the vampire, ask him why he seemed far more aggressive towards her than Geralt, but she knew whatever answer he would give would piss her off.

She wanted to just… be done with this, go find this Dettlaff herself and deal with him and leave Toussaint.

She felt tired, and not because of the sheer amount of monsters she had fought today. The witcheress was tired, tired of the Path, of not having a home after Kaer Seren was destroyed beyond any repairs what few of the witchers could manage.

Somewhere, an owl hooted, pulling her out of her thoughts, and Asha waded back to shore, toweling off and dressing in her spare change of clothes, grabbing her pack and effects and making her way back through the dark woods to the cemetery.

* * *

“And you’re sure this isn’t just poison?” Asha asked.

“It’s been brewed to all the specifications, I assure you. I wouldn’t risk the life of my friend if I wasn’t sure this would work.”

Regis, who was looking much better than he had the day previous, handed Geralt a vial of the green brew, who downed the concoction, shaking his head.

Asha and Regis watched him carefully, as his features contorted in pain, before his eyes rolled back and he slumped over.

“What did you do to him?” She accused, her hand coming to rest on the hilt of her silver sword.

“This seems... normal I will say. Resonance is supposed to trigger visions, it only makes sense that he’d be knocked out.”

“If he dies-“

“If he dies, believe me, I have larger problems than you.”

Asha scoffed. “Like what?”

The vampire’s dark eyes met hers. “Despite my long life and the relative shortness of his, I would never forgive myself had a mistake I made killed a dear friend of mine. You can trust that.”

She relaxed a fraction, walking away from the vampire and comatose witcher, returning to the corner she had claimed for herself, as far from the area Regis frequented as she could get, and waited.

* * *

He should be resting after the ordeal he went through in the dungeons of Teshnam Mutna, but with Geralt now out on Dettlaff's trail, the witcher tasked Asha to ensure his own wellbeing, which went over about as well as oil in water, considering how yesterday afternoon had went.

She left, and Regis decided to replenish his dwindling stock of dried herbs.

In a way, he was glad she had left, he was still feeling a little of the side effects of consuming blood after so long, and he very much did _not_ want to answer her questions about how he seemed to be more honed in on her scent as opposed to Geralt’s.

The vampire picked his way through the forest, gathering the plants that were rather unique to Toussaint.

His attention was pulled away from a mandrake root when the ravens above him started screeching, a rather familiar raven swooping low towards his head. All of them at once, it was hard to listen to what they were saying, but the message was clear: Asha was hurt, badly.

Transforming into a cloud of mist, Regis followed the raven, and then the overwhelming smell of blood hit him. He needed to keep it together. His only saving grace was that he had years and years of practiced self-control, he could handle this. He had to.

Even from far, he could hear her struggling to breathe, the wet sound of blood filling lungs making him wince.

He quickly regained corporeal form at her side and assessed the situation.

An arrow of rather fine quality was sticking out of her chest, an empty bottle of Swallow at her side, broken branches around.

The look she gave him when he appeared, Regis would likely never forget. He knew that Geralt hid behind the idea that witchers don't feel emotions, especially not strongly, but the vampire had never seen fear in a witcher's eyes before. Fear of him, fear of death, of both, he wasn’t sure.

"I need to remove the arrow. I know you don't trust me, but if I don't do something, you're going to die."

"I-" a cough racked her, blood spurting from her lips. This wasn't good. Her witcher potion was acting too slowly. She'll suffocate before it heals her enough.

She gave a near imperceptible nod, and Regis worked on carefully extracting the arrow, wincing at her choked scream.

"I know it fell over- good gods! What happened here? You man! Back bandit!"

Regis turned his dark gaze to the newcomers of the clearing, a lord and a few guardsman, a bow in the lord's hand, and a quiver of arrows matching the one that he just removed from her.

"I'm helping her, kindly stand back before you cause more harm." The vampire bit out as politely as he could.

"More harm? I- is that my arrow? I shot at an eagle, not a woman!"

Regis heard her heartbeat slow, the potion trying to work harder to heal her, but it wasn't working.

He shook his head, and pulled off one of his gloves, pushing a sleeve up.

"I say, man, what are you doing?"

The vampire ignored the noble. "My dear, this is likely going to hurt, quite a bit I'm afraid, but it's the only way I can save your life. I'm sorry." He bit his wrist, fangs puncturing skin, and an unnaturally deep red blood, so dark it appeared black welled up, and he held his wrist over her wound, letting it drip. Immediately, she struggled, and Regis knew it had to burn like hot iron.

The noble came and grabbed her shoulder, helping him hold her down.

She grabbed the vampire’s forearm, and he was certain, had he been human, the grip would have likely broken his arm.

He moved his wrist to her mouth, and silently pleaded with her when she made no attempt.

“Asha, my dear, please, you have to trust me.”

“What are you doing to her?” The noble asked, outraged.

Regis ignored the man, and hesitantly, Asha began to drink his blood, but could only manage a little before she started to choke, her body trying to reject it, black veins starting to creep onto her face.

He'd think about the implications of healing her with his blood later. Much later.

She calmed a bit, after what seemed like an age, the wet sound of blood filling her lungs subsiding, though coughs racked her frame, trying to expel blood and tissue, and her heartrate returned to a more normal state.

"What in the blazes is going on here! You will answer me this instant! You, you creature!"

Gathering her in his arms, he effortlessly lifted her, swords, leather, chain, and all, startling the noble and his guards; for how could one with his appearance manage such a feat?

"What's going on, is you shot this witcher, caught her off guard. And for you and your men's sake, you best pray it was an accident." The vampire’s tone was harsh, accusatory, and with a sharp edge that made the guardsmen reach for their blades.

The noble looked taken aback. "Of course it was! I shot an eagle, to have it stuffed for my mantle! It landed here, how was I to know there was a woman here! Eagles cannot turn into women!"

"No, but apparently they can turn into witcheresses." It took a great deal of effort to not bare his fangs in anger. "Leave." he hissed.

Regis went back to the cemetery as quickly as he could, trying not to jostle her.

"Asha? Stay with me, my dear. We're almost there."

She was fluttering in and out of consciousness, a result of his blood he assumed. That confirmed his theory about witchers using higher vampire mutagens in their transformation process, the introduction of his blood to her system would have likely killed her. The regeneration process was knocking her out, her body not strong enough to handle the potency of a vampire's regenerative qualities.

Once back into his humble abode, he got her out of her armor, with some difficulty, removed her shirt, and patched up her wound, not fully healed, but still needed to be treated.

Once his work was done, he changed himself, and busied himself with washing the clothes, and mended her shirt. Even then she was still asleep in his cot, he pulled up a chair next to her, book in hand. He wanted to be close to monitor her heartrate, make sure her body didn't reject anything.

It was some time before he heard Geralt come back.

"Regis-“ the Witcher started, but stopped in his tracks when he saw the state of his companion.” What happened here?"

"There was a misunderstanding with a local noble, who wanted a new trophy for his mantle."

“Is she alright?”

“She should be fine, I hope.”

Geralt crossed his arms. "And a witcher seemed like a good trophy?

Regis shook his head. "Do you know of any witchers that are polymorphs? Any record of them?"

"No, why do you ask?"

"Because the lord claimed he shot an eagle in the sky, and he came looking for it where I found her. He even had the same arrows like the one I pulled from her chest. And, there were broken branches around her, almost like she fell through the canopy. I didn't look too closely, I'll admit, I was a bit preoccupied as you can imagine."

"Hmm. The only polymorph I know personally that's not a doppler is Philippa Eilheart. And she's a sorceress."

"But it's less a magic that is learned and more of a born talent, yes? So it could be possible that our dear Asha has such an ability?"

"I suppose so. How is she doing?"

Regis stood, and took a few steps from both her and Geralt.

"I'm afraid I've rather complicated our strained relationship in the process of saving her, and I ask you use digression with what I'm about to tell you."

The witcher grunted his affirmation.

"I spoke about how Dettlaff healed me, how he was able to speed up the regeneration process at the cost of his own blood?"

"Regis, you didn't-"

"It was a gamble, I've long had my hypothesis that the witchers of old used vampire mutagens in your mutations, now this confirms my theory, because if otherwise it would have likely killed her, even in such a small amount. But in doing so, we've been blood bonded, like how Dettlaff and I are."

"And you're not going to tell her?"

"And risk her wrath? Asha, the witcher that has such a hatred for my kind that she specializes in the hunting and killing of vampires? I think not, my friend."

"If she finds out, and it doesn't come from you, I think she'll be even more furious."

"Perhaps, but also there's no way of telling unless another vampire smells me on her and informs her. And with our continued proximity, they're not likely to pick up on it. Not until we've very much went our separate ways."

Geralt took a deep breath. "She smells different Regis. She smells more like you now."

"Yes, well, can't be helped, You also smell like me as well, as I've said, continued proximity."

Geralt shook his head. "Got a lead on Dettlaff. But the Bootblack didn't wanna give up any useful information. Was thinking you could give it a try."

Regis glanced at the sleeping witcher in the corner. "I know time is short, but as a physician I cannot leave my patient, at least until she wakes. Any sort of danger she faces will be gone then."

Geralt nodded. A few more hours likely won't change anything.

* * *

Soon, Asha stirred. Regis heard her breath quicken as she came out of her sleep, golden cat eyes fluttering open in confusion before settling on his features.

“What happened?” She croaked, and Regis handed her a waterskin, which she drank down greedily.

“You somehow managed to get an arrow through one of your lungs, and was dangerously close to your heart.”

“It came from nowhere; I saw it too late.”

“The noble said he had shot an eagle, one he hoped to stuff for his mantle.”

With a wince she sat up more fully, back to the stone wall of the chamber. “Tell me you killed the bastard for it.”

“I can’t very well go around slaughtering nobles and their men, it would only prove that all vampires are monsters, correct? Especially since witchers cannot change into birds.”

“Some of them can. Well, one at least.”

“You’re a polymorph?” Geralt asked from across the room.

“My mother was, she could turn into a raven. I can turn into an eagle.”

“I would think the mutations would strip you of an ability like that.” The other witcher continued.

“Keldar thought it might happen, but it made it stronger than before. It took a lot of effort when I was a child, but now I can change without a thought.”

“Hm.”

“How utterly fascinating. I don’t believe I’ve met a polymorph before. Perhaps later, you’d be willing to answer a few questions? Sate an old vampire’s curiosity?”

To his surprise, she nodded. “Sure.”

“Well, I hate to leave, but you seem fine now, all things considered. The danger has passed, Geralt and I are going into Beauclair about a lead on Dettlaff, I trust you’ll stay here and not cause trouble?”

She gritted her teeth as she tried to shift positions. “I’ll be right here.”

“Good, now Geralt, if you’d please.” The vampire gestured to the door.

“Regis-“ the vampire in question turned back to her as Geralt left them, his dark eyes staring at her, expectantly. That was the first time she hadn’t called him ‘bloodsucker’ or ‘vampire’ or ‘beast’. “Thank you. You could have just left me to die. After everything, I would have.”

He smiled softly at her. “As I’ve said before, my dear, not all of us are monsters. And you are quite welcome.” He bowed his head slightly before departing, leaving the injured witcheress to recover.

* * *

In Beauclair, Geralt and Regis parted, the vampire returning to the cemetery after meeting with Dettlaff, the witcher to his new estate. As soon as he returned, Regis checked on Asha to see how she was fairing after such an ordeal.

She had been sleeping when he returned, but the moment he made but a sound, she was wide awake, searching for a danger that wasn’t present.

Asha sat up in his cot.

“How are you feeling my dear?” Regis asked her.

“I’m not going to die at least.” Her voice was quieter than usual, seemed less confident, lacking her normal biting venom.

Regis regarded her carefully. She seemed almost timid, shy. Which was wildly out of character.

“But something seems to be bothering you.”

Her golden cat eyes met his, and they seemed sad, confused. “I-“ she paused. “Why didn’t you just let me die? I’ve killed probably hundreds of your kind. You should hate me, not have saved my life.”

Regis shook his head, a ghost of a smile playing at his lips. “I am a surgeon, well, barber-surgeon but I’ve picked up some more skills since then. I saved you because for someone to have such an intense hatred for my particular brand of monster, you had to have been traumatized. I saved you because not all vampires are evil monsters, my dear. And because I think you are a good person that tries to do what’s right, much like Geralt. I saved you because any half decent creature would have.”

She was silent, averting her eyes to anywhere but where he was. Regis went back to his desk, and busied himself with tidying up the concoction he had been working on earlier.

“I was 6.” He heard her say.

“You don’t owe me an explanation, my dear-“

“Just- let me talk. I feel like you should at least know why.”

Regis sat next to his cot in the chair he had occupied when he was watching over her, attentive, though she still refused to look at him.

“I was 6 when one afternoon, my mother and I got a visitor. Mother was a sorceress, she studied at Aretuza, and was never terribly good at magic. The only reason she graduated was because she was a polymorph and she was handy with an alembic. An unannounced guest from Henjors wasn’t uncommon. But I remember he was different. It was so sunny that day, it had been such a hard winter, and mother and I were out in her garden, planting new seeds. He didn’t have a shadow, and he had claws instead of nails. He needed something from her, I can’t remember what. But they went into the house, I was to keep planting. When he came out, there was blood on his hands, his mouth, and he just looked at me before vanishing. Mother, she- her throat had been ripped out. She didn’t even scream. The city was so far away, I didn’t know how to get there, so I stayed. I cried and slept in the garden so I didn’t have to be in the house with her. It was probably a week before Ivost came. He wanted mother’s help with a contract, and when he found me, he took me in. Took me to Kaer Seren to be a witcher.”

Regis was silent for a time. “Words mean nothing, but I am truly sorry for what happened to you. And your mother.”

Finally she looked at him, her eyes glassy like she was holding back tears. Regis didn’t know a witcher _could_ cry. “Everything I’ve done, believed most of my life has been to hunt vampires. That’s why I went through the trials, why I risked my life, knowing that of the small fraction of boys that make it, it’s even less a chance with girls. And now- now it’s like everything _feels_ wrong.”

Guilt washed over Regis. They were blood-bonded now, of course she would feel the difference. The thought of telling her about her new, unwanted connection to him passed, but he quickly squashed it down. He would tell her, before this whole ordeal was over, but not now.

He itched to reach out to her, to comfort her. Their bond was new, and he was getting faint echoes of her distress, instinct wanting him to act.

“I’ve never been that close to death before. Ever. I’ve been close, had some close calls, but-“ a silent, errant tear slipped down her cheek. “Witchers have dulled emotions, but we feel. And that was the first time since the Trial of the Grasses I had been truly afraid. Not even that rabid higher vampire scared me.”

Gently, Regis did reach for her hand, pausing, giving her the option to deny him, and when she didn’t, he took her hand in his. “You’re safe now, Asha. This is likely one of the safest places in Toussaint.”

“It’s not that- I’m just- I’m confused right now. And I have a contract to do.” She took her hand from his and ran both hands through her loose blond hair, exasperated.

“Geralt is out chasing a lead, and you should rest still. At least for a few days.”

“I should be out there-“

“You have to rest, or your wound could open and get infected. Actually, if you wouldn’t mind me seeing how it’s healing?” His blood would likely have made the wound just a deep cut now rather than anything resembling a puncture.

She nodded, and she pulled off her shirt with a wince, and Regis checked her wound. “It’s healing nicely.” He said as he changed her bandages and helped her replace her shirt. “Geralt also said he’s have a room open for you at Corvo Bianco, if you wished to stay there. You’re more than welcome to stay here, of course but the vineyard is likely far more comfortable.”

“And the owners of the vineyard are just letting Geralt and I stay there?”

“The duchess gifted the estate to him, part of his payment for his contract.”

She half smiled, a strained thing. “Maybe I’ll get a vineyard too. Maybe even a castle. I could retire.”

“Would you?”

“Probably not. Being a witcher is shitty on the best of days but I don’t know what else I’d do. It’s been nearly my whole life.”

“You don’t want to try and be the first witcher to die of old age?”

“As if I’d ever get that luxury.”

“Life is full of uncertainties, you know.”

“And it’s full of absolutes.”

Regis raised a brow. “Oh?”

She gave him a half smile, and he could see she was at least a little less conflicted.

“Death and taxes. Has anyone ever told you that you dress like a tax collector?”

A smile broke across this face, the tips of his fangs peeking out from under his lips. “You’re not the first to tell me that, though it has been a while.”

She laughed lightly, and the sound warmed him, and he chuckled, and they fell into the first comfortable silence they’d had.

Asha broke it. “What lead was Geralt following?”

Regis filled her in, how they had found Dettlaff’s house, about the slips of paper, the wine stain, Dettlaff's missing human lover.

“I met with Dettlaff. He’s unwell, severely agitated. I’ve never seen him like this before.”

“I’d be the same if someone kidnapped someone I cared for.”

“It’s more than that for him. She’s part of his pack.” _And now so are you_. He thought. “He doesn’t know how to ask for help, and the fact that I’m working with you and Geralt, two witchers hired to hunt him, he doesn’t want to trust me. And though you have yet to lock blade to claw with him, he’s heard about you, he’s very…”

“He wants to kill me.”

“No! Not at all, he is just very wary of you, all things considering. I just ask that when we all inevitably meet, that you could curb your venom just a little. The situation is very delicate.”

“As much as I don’t trust him,” She sighed. “You saved my life, Regis. I’m not going to forget that. If you say he’s a good _man_ then I’ll trust that judgement.

Regis smiled at her again. “Thank you my dear.”

They fell into another long silence, Regis going about organizing his papers, books, potions, and herbs, Asha finding herself getting antsy.

“Regis?”

“Hm?”

“I know you said to not exert myself, but I was hit as an eagle, I want to see if I can still fly.”

“If you think you can, your wound _is_ healing rather nicely, though I shall be around in case you need me. And I wouldn’t be lying if I said I wasn’t curious.”

Regis hovered, offering her a hand to stand, which to his surprise, she took. She winced a little when she stood to her full height and stretched her shoulders, but otherwise she seemed fine.They went outside, the sun hanging low in the sky. Asha took a deep breath, and in a small puff of golden mist, an eagle was in the place, flapping its wings, but struggling to. Regis held out his arm for her to land on, which she immediately latched her talons onto. Though she quickly released the pressure, holding on enough to stay balanced. The vampire was taken aback. She was far larger than he expected her to be.

“Are you alright, my dear?”

She looked at him, her eyes not of a bird’s but of a witcher’s. He felt her tense, much like right before a raven would take off so Regis moved his arm up to aid in her taking off, which seemed to help.

With a few powerful flaps of wings, she was in the air, but he could tell that it was off, hear her heartbeat beat faster than it should, breathe harder than she should. After a short moment, she glided to the ground, and in another puff of golden mist she landed on unsteady feet, Regis hovering to make sure she wouldn’t stumble.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“It’s a little painful to fly, but I should be fine after a few days.” She panted, out of breath.

“Rest is what you need right now, your lungs are still healing. No more flying, or fighting until you’re not winded by simple tasks.”

Asha nodded, and looked up at the sky. “Where’s Corvo Bianco?”

“On the other side of Beauclair, I’m afraid.”

She gave him a half smile. “Hope you don’t mind company for one more night.”

He returned her smile. “Not at all, my dear. You can stay as long as you like.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spring Quarter starts Monday, come scream at me on tumblr for prompts, asks, or anything!! I need a distraction from animal crossing and the homework I should be doing lol
> 
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/elventhief
> 
> Thanks to all that's supported this and me!! Much love <3


	4. A Theory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regis and Asha spend a day in Beauclair, Asha is shown around Corvo Bianco, and some theories are passed around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello! Back at it again with another chapter! Not a lot happens tbh, but it's a nice break after last chapter, oof.
> 
> Beta'd by the always wonderful aureliu_s!

Asha woke up feeling… strangely well, considering how she was knocking on death’s door the day prior.

Her chest still hurt a little, especially when she took a deep breath, but otherwise, she felt like she had slept in the softest feather bed, for a full eighteen hours, not however many she got and on the hard stone floor.

“Good morning.” She told Regis and went to work making a bowl of oatmeal. She was grateful that the vampire had taken to keeping small quantities of food around so she and Geralt wouldn’t have to dip into their rations for the Path.

“You seem rather chipper this morning.” He commented, looking up from the book he was reading, a smile on his lips.

“I don’t feel like I got my ass beat by a golem, so there’s that.”

“Witchers do tend to heal much faster it seems.”

“And… whatever it is you did to me yesterday, with your blood.”

Regis suddenly looked sheepish. “Ah, yes, well I hope that wasn’t terribly unpleasant. I had long hypothesized that witchers used mutagens from vampires and higher vampires, and this rather proves it. Our blood is too potent for not one of our kind, the regenerative properties too much for the body to handle. Even that little bit from yesterday was getting to be too much.”

“Thank you again, Regis,” she turned serious. “I can’t thank you enough for saving my life. I owe you a debt, and a real apology.”

“You owe me neither of those things, my dear. We can just let bygones be bygones, start anew, hm?”

A ghost of a smile graced her lips as she nodded her affirmation.

Asha finished making her breakfast, quietly eating. She washed the earthenware bowl and wooden spoon in the basin and got ready. It was likely to be hot, as it always was in Toussaint in the summer, so she braided her long hair and pinned it up into a bun. It was getting too long again; she would need to cut it soon. Next came her boots, swords, daggers, knife and bomb belt. She decided to forgo the leathers, packing them neatly in her saddlebag.

“I’m going into the city, if you wanna join? I was going to head to Corvo Bianco afterwards, figured Geralt could use the company, and see if he made any progress with that wine stain you both found.”

Regis set his book aside with a pursed smile. “I’m running low on a few herbs not commonly found in the region, actually, I would love to accompany you, if anything to make sure you don’t overexert yourself.”

Asha rolled her eyes. “I don’t need a nanny.”

“But perhaps you could use a concerned friend?”

She smiled. “Yeah, sure. A friend works.”

* * *

It was Market Day in Beauclair, and the streets were bustling more than usual as farmers and vintners flocked to the city from miles around to sell their wares. Asha had ridden Grey Wind into the city, Regis walking beside, though as the throng of people grew more dense, she slid off, walking the horse through the crowd. As they passed the cemetery, however, someone grabbed her arm. She tensed, and drew her dagger.

The man stared at her with wide eyes. “You’re a witcher, yes? No one else I know of carries two swords.”

She let him go, sheathing her blade before a guard saw and crossed her arms. “I am, and we don’t usually take too kindly to someone grabbing us to get our attention.”

“I am truly sorry, I meant no offence, Mademoiselle Witcher.”

“What do you need?" She felt Regis hover at her back, a few feet away.

“I live nearby you see, and I haven’t been able to get any sleep with the racket that’s been coming from the catacombs beneath the cemetery.”

“I can see what I can do. I’m in the middle of a contract for the duchess, so if I get a spare moment, I can take a look at it.”

“Do you have any idea what it could be?”

“Well, what’s it sound like?” She tried to not get short with the man.

“It’s this… unholy howling! Unlike anything I’ve ever heard before!”

She sighed. “It if it was necrophages, they’d be out in the city already. Might be a wraith, or a few restless specters.”

“And your price?”

“Depends what I find down there. A wraith? Twenty florens. Some ‘unholy’ beast that’s significantly harder to deal with? Thirty florens and up depending on how much of a pain in the ass it is.”

“I’ll pay anything to get to sleep in my own bed again. I’m staying at the Clever Clogs not far from here.”

“I’ll come find you when the job is done.”

“Thank you, Mademoiselle Witcher, thank you.” The man left, and Regis fell into step beside her as they continued.

“I trust you’re not going to go investigate that right away?” the vampire asked.

“Of course not. I don’t feel like going to a crypt right now, I’ve been living in one for the better part of a week.” She smirked, and Regis chuckled.

“Yes, I imagine it’s getting to be quite dull.”

They continued through the city a ways, passing the Nilfgaardian embassy, when Asha spotted a blacksmith shop.

“Regis, do you mind if we stop here for a moment? I need a new silver sword and I’ve been looking at several smiths to see if they can even forge one.”

“Of course, my dear.”

Asha handed the mare’s reins to Regis, and she went inside.

* * *

“And he wants to make me a silver sword, free of charge! No material gathering, no coin for the forging. Just, _free_. He said it will be what makes him a grandmaster smith, he’s not gonna charge me. I just need to find the diagram.” Asha gripped Grey Wind’s reins, and gently guided the horse next to her as the vampire and witcher made their way through the crowded streets of Beauclair.

“Besides the quality, what is the difference between your silver sword and a grandmaster one?”

She pulled a vial out of her belt and held it up for the vampire to see. “The best part about a grandmaster silver witcher sword is that it has a compartment in the hilt that lets you put monster oil in it, and the witcher can release it slowly, so it recoats the blade, even in the middle of combat.”

“That sounds like quite the feat of engineering, and that it would be more than a little useful.”

The witcheress smiled. “It might make the difference between life and death one day.”

“Well, should you need help on this scavenger hunt, if I am able, I can assist you.”

“You really want to trek around Toussaint with me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Regis half smiled at her. “I’ve found that traveling with a witcher always lends to an interesting time, and you’re far chattier than Geralt, and far less so than Dandelion.”

She laughed. “I’ve heard stories about the bard. I’m surprised I haven’t run into him during my travels.”

“Don’t tell Geralt that, the amount of times Dandelion has told me they’ve just run into one another on the side of the road is far too many.” He chuckled.

They fell into an easy silence as they made their way through the Cooper’s Gate, and into the countryside.

“Hey Regis-“

“Hm?”

She paused for a moment, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “The other day, how much do you remember?”

The vampire sighed. “Hardly anything after I got into the cage. I remember the smell,” he flinched at his own words, “the screams of the necrophages, the heat of a magical fire. The pain and anger blocked out most of it. I don’t remember having a coherent thought until after Geralt pulled me out of cage. Why do you ask?”

“You just seemed so… focused on me rather than Geralt. You rode on Roach behind him and, yes I know Geralt reeks but you still seemed just…” she paused, trying to figure out how to explain it. “You know how a predator watches its prey right before pouncing? It was like that. And I don’t like the thought of being prey. Not to a vampire, not a slyzard, not anything.”

Regis was quiet a short moment, trying to figure out how to explain it to her, but she interjected before he could speak.

“And it’s not just you either, the others,” her hand came up to neck, fingertips brushing some of the fading white scars.” When given the option of unarmed, helpless civilians that won’t put up a fight or a witcher that’s dedicated her life to fighting vampires, a lesser vampire will choose me. Every. Single. Time. I don’t get it.”

Regis let out a sigh. “If I may be candid?”

“Of course.”

“It’s your blood. The smell of it. It’s quite potent, I must admit.”

She looked at wide eyes. “What?”

“You have a great deal of magic in your blood, my dear. That alone makes you more desirable to vampires. It’s like… it’s like fisstech. A sort of friend I had in my wild youth had a taste for magical blood, which I always knew would likely catch up to him. But with your magical blood and your polymorphy, there’s this sort of… exoticism to it.” Regis glanced at her, and she was staring straight ahead, her movement tight, uncomfortable. “I’m sorry my dear, that was a bit uncalled for-“

“No,” she sighed and relaxed a little, “It’s fine Regis. I asked why and I got the answer. It’s just a little hard to hear, you know?”

“I understand Asha. And I apologize for the other day, for making you uncomfortable. I was regrettably not fully in control of myself.”

“A necessary evil, I guess. I suppose you wanting to eat me makes us even for me being a dick to you?” She gave him a lopsided, joking smile, which he returned.

“Yes, I think we can call it even then.”

* * *

Corvo Bianco was a sight to see.

The picturesque villa left a resounding pang in Asha’s chest. A reminder that she truly had no home. Hadn’t had one for a while.

The sun was starting to hang lower in the sky, and Asha found herself rather hungry. She only hoped Geralt was a better cook than he seemed to be.

She left Grey Wind in the stables with Roach, a teenage boy telling her in broken Common that he would take care of her horse, so Asha took her saddlebags with her and they made their way up the hill to the main house.

A bald man in a rather fine doublet and glasses answered the door, and upon seeing Asha’s twin swords and cat eyes, he bowed and let them in the house. “Master Geralt, you have guests.” The man called, and Geralt came out of a side room.

“You’re looking better, Asha. Regis.” The witcher greeted them.

“I left Grey Wind at the stable with Roach, if that’s alright.”

“I think she’ll be happy for someone else besides me talking to her. I’ll have BB get the guest room ready. I wasn’t sure when you were going to feel well enough to travel.”

“Thanks, Geralt but this place is… _wow_.”

“Yeah, it’s a far cry from the drafty halls of Kaer Morhen, that’s for sure.”

“Maybe I should try and suck up to the dutchess, and she’ll give me a fancy vineyard.”

Geralt raised a brow. “I don’t think sucking up will do much good.”

An old woman interrupted them, gently placing a couple plates of food on the table, before hurrying back to the kitchen to bring out more.

Asha’s stomach growled. “That smells delicious. I’m starving.”

Geralt gestured to the table, and the three of them sat. “Thank you, Marlene.” The witcher thanked the old woman.

Asha wasted no time digging into the food, which was so, so, _so_ much better than anything she had had in weeks, months even.

As they neared the end of their meal, with Marlene scolding Regis for not eating anything, who then put a small portion on the plate that Asha switched with her empty one to avoid the kindly woman’s ire again.

The witcheress took a sip of wine, also some of the best she’d had in ages. “I’ve been thinking, about these murders.” She said.

The vampire leaned forward on his elbows a bit, his hands clasped under his nose. Geralt’s eyes flickered to her.

“All of these murders have been symbolic, this we know. And all of them have been high profile, meant to be seen and gossiped about. Not just simple fearmongering. I was thinking, this last one, Peryan, right?” Geralt nodded his confirmation. “He was the fourth sin, so to speak. I don’t think the last victim is a knight.”

Geralt leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Then who is it?”

Asha was silent a beat. “The duchess.”

“Hm.” Regis started. “I think I follow.”

Asha took a deep breath. “Anna Henrietta isn’t exactly known for her compassion on most occasions, and that’s the last virtue. And the last murder was right in the ducal gardens. Dettlaff was right there. And the assassination of someone that high profile and that well-guarded wouldn’t be anything to a-“ she paused, as Marlene bought out a tray of pastries for desert, which Asha thanked the woman and promptly took one. “Someone like Dettlaff.” She glanced at Regis, who nodded. “But the question is, would he? Even with his lady love on the line, if word got out that someone like him murdered the duchess of Toussaint, wouldn’t something like the dungeons of Tesham Mutna need to be used again?”

“More like, he would be hunted down by a champion or several from the Unseen Elder, dismembered and locked in a box and forgotten about for a few hundred years, and not before they would likely make him watch them kill Rhenaweld.” The vampire’s voice was stiff, automatic.

“But we don’t know for certain that the duchess is the next target.” Geralt added.

“Is there anyone else in that knightly team left?”

“No.”

Asha leaned back and munched on the pastry. “This is a power play, a political game. Someone wants the duchess dead, and they want the people to turn against her, history turn against her.”

“A war of succession, in a word, then?” Regis asked.

The witcheress nodded. “Who’s next in line for the ducal throne?”

Geralt shrugged. “She’s not married, no children.”

“What about siblings? First cousins?”

“She’s Ciri’s distant cousin through Emhyr, that’s all I know.”

“We should do some digging on this, because I bet that whoever is next in line has something to do with this.”

Geralt thought a moment. “The wine stain on that paper, I brought to Anna Henrietta. It was Sangreal, which is only for the ducal table. Turns out the owner of the ducal vineyard has been selling it under the table. There’s a trade off two days from now, I’m meeting Damien there and his guards to ambush them, see if we can get some answers. But we’re looking for someone not local from what the vintner said. ”

“I bet he’s a middleman, to throw off the scent.”

“But it’s not out of the possibility that the Northern Realms are perhaps trying to weaken Nilfgaard more than it is with Radovid pushing farther south still?” Regis proposed.

“Radovid wouldn’t do something like this. He’s too paranoid and hates non-humans too much.” Geralt remarked.

“And Toussaint knights don’t fight for Nilfgaard. They’re their own banner, just under Nilfgaard. They probably take volunteers, sure, but the standing army for a duchy this small won’t make up much of difference.” Asha said.

“You’ve given this a lot of thought, my dear.” Regis said, surprised.

“Old Keldar said I had a good mind for tactics and puzzle solving.” She joked. “It might be a stretch, I could be completely wrong, but something in my gut says I’m not. And it hasn’t gotten me killed yet.”

“But that begs the question, if we can’t find the blackmailer, Dettlaff will, without a doubt in my mind, go through with it if it means keeping Rhenaweld safe; what if they send him another note?” Regis asked.

The witchers were silent for a moment before Geralt broke it. “Regis, I know he’s your friend, that you owe him your life, but I have to protect the duchess if it comes to that. Or avenge her.”

“I will not kill him, not even for you, Geralt.”

“I understand that, Regis, I do. Which is why-“

“We have until the summer solstice.” Asha interrupted.

Geralt stopped speaking at her statement. “Why then?”

She had been staring at spot on the table, thinking, but her eyes focused on the witcher at his words. “Because, all the murders have taken place on festivals, celebrations, or days of worship. Think about it. Peyran was killed because he was wearing the rabbit costume. I think it also might have to do with something in those knight’s shared past, but even though he was in Velen looking for you, he wasn’t killed in a specific manner like the others. It was because of the costume. If he hadn’t been the rabbit in the festival, I bet he would still be alive, the blackmailers figuring out a way to make the man look like a coward. Compassion is the last virtue. The next celebration is on the solstice, where-“

“People of all walks of life and wealth celebrate the midharvest and share what they have with others.” Regis finished.

“Exactly, it’s a celebration of compassion for your fellow man, giving to those around you even if you have little.”

Geralt hummed in thought. “That gives us a little less than three weeks to find the blackmailer, if you’re right.”

“Honestly? I hope I’m not.”

* * *

Asha methodically unpacked what few belongings she owned into the small chest of drawers that was given to her in the guest room when knuckles rapped on the plaster wall behind her.

She turned to see Regis.

“Did Geralt say we had to bunk together?” She teased. “Because this is a real bed and I’m not sharing, at all, ever.”

The vampire smiled with pursed lips. It was amazing how they had went from enemies to joking like this in such a short span.

“No need to worry, I’m not staying here tonight.” At her questioning look, he continued. “I’m going to speak with Dettlaff, talk to him about what we discussed tonight, and ask that he not do something inherently stupid like kill the duchess over a woman that clearly doesn’t want to be with him.”

“I sense trouble in paradise.”

Regis sighed, and fiddled with the strap of his herb satchel. “I’ve never met the woman, only seen drawings of her. She left over a year ago, on her own terms. But Dettlaff was convinced that she had been kidnapped then. But all of her things were gone from his home. She waited until he left for a few days to help me regenerate, packed, and left.”

“I can’t blame her.”

“It’s foolish to get involved with a mortal like that. He loves her. He’s acting too irrationally and even more irritable than he normally is. He wanted her to be his mate.” The vampire shook his head, and Asha raised a brow.

“That a vampire culture thing I don’t know about?”

He sighed. “It’s a…territorial thing. We have our own magic, it’s this certain _ritual_ that is performed and the vampire marks their mate, it’s similar to marriage, in a sense, just for life. It’s almost like a brand, to ward off any other vampires, many times lesser that might cause any sort of harm.”

“That _certainly_ wasn’t in any book on vampires in Kaer Saren.”

“It doesn’t happen terribly often, though when it does it’s often done outside of our kind.”

“Huh.”

“At any rate, I wanted to see how you were doing before I left, I will likely be back here tomorrow to check on you as well.”

She rubbed the spot where a new nasty looking scar was forming. “It’s mostly healed. I can breathe fine. I’m going to go flying tomorrow morning, and then convince Geralt to show me if the famed White Wolf is really as good as the tales say with a sword.” She grinned.

“I don’t want to miss that.” Regis replied with a smile. “I’m glad you are feeling better, but if breathing still becomes a struggle, you should stop immediately.”

“I will, don’t worry.”

“When do you think you will go on this scavenger hunt? If you would still like me to join you, that is?”

“If we get a second to breathe after this ambush, likely after that. Or at least start looking, at any rate. And you’re more than welcome to come along, if anything it gets you out of that tomb.”

“I look forward to it, then. Goodnight Asha.”

She smiled at him. “Night, Regis.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corvo Bianco is nice already because I blame game mechanics, making you spend like 20k gold to make your player home nice, so the hell with that noise, Geralt deserves a nice place because the boy is broke af lol


	5. Ambush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flight, some sparring, some musing, an ambush, and Asha finally gets to meet the Duchess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this chapter got way longer than it was supposed to be,,, oops. Also after this chapter updates miiiiight be a little slower, I have four weeks to finish my last few projects for my portfolio and I really got to, as a friend of mine says 'get a wiggle on' with it. That and there is some Major Plot Stuff coming in the next few chapters after chapter 6, and I wanna take my time to get it just right. I hope it'll be worth it.
> 
> There's some game dialogue in here as well, way more towards the end!
> 
> Beta'd by the always wonderful aureliu_s!

The sun was just past fully risen when Regis regained his physical form outside the outskirts of Corvo Bianco. He heard soft wing flaps above him, and a rather familiar eagle swooped down, a small puff of golden mist taking its place. Asha stepped out from the cloud.

“Waiting for me, were you?” Regis asked with a smirk.

“Not at all, I was flying over Beauclair and spotted you across the water- at least I assumed it was you- and headed back over here.”

“Yes, that was indeed me. I believe that Dettlaff and I are the only other higher vampires like us around, aside from…”

“That Elder you mentioned yesterday?”

Regis nodded. They began walking up the long path to the main house.

“The other day, I mentioned that I had been threatened to be taken to an Elder by another vampire… that’s what they’re called right? Unseen Elder?”

“Yes. The one that resides in Toussaint, he is… he doesn’t care about anything outside of his cave. I just ask that you please, unless there really is a vampire or pack killing humans or elves or dwarves, leave them be.”

“I’ve fought higher vampires before-“

“Asha.” Regis stopped, taking her shoulders, forcing her to stop walking as well. “They are the strongest of us. An army of mages couldn’t possibly hope to even injure one. _Leave it be_. I beg you.”

She stared at him with wide eyes. “You’re really scared of them, aren’t you?” He nodded. “Alright, I’ll be more careful. Only contracts, unless they attack me first.”

Regis let out a breath, and they began walking again. “Thank you my dear. I’ve been... troubled since you mentioned that. I do not wish to see you harmed because you simply don’t know.”

“Thanks, Regis. I appreciate you looking out for me. I thought I knew a lot about vampires, but there’s so much I don’t know.”

“As long as it’s mostly for academic purposes, I’d be happy to answer any questions.”

Asha opened the door to the manor house, where Geralt looked at them with crossed arms and raised brow.

“You two seem chummy.”

“He saved my life, least I can do is not be an ass. I’m not too proud to admit when I was wrong about something or someone.” She gave the vampire a smile.

* * *

The witchers circled one another, Geralt with two hands on his blade, Asha holding her sword with a single hand.

“Your sword is smaller than mine.” Geralt noted. “Didn’t notice that in Tesham Mutna.”

“Gryphons don’t fight like Wolves.”

Regis sat not far away from the area they had decided to spar in, watching the two closely. He had seen Geralt fight before, of course he had, but Asha… he’s only witnessed a knife throw on that first meeting they had, as he was far too out of it to pay attention when he was locked in the cage.

They traded blows, testing one another. Soon, they began trading blows more frequently, their movements like a deadly, deadly dance.

Physically, Geralt was taller, stronger, but Asha was lightning fast, parrying his blows and slashing with her own powerful strikes, her strength catching the older witcher off guard.

They fought for what seemed hours, and Regis was actually quite sure the bout had been ongoing for the better part of an hour, their attacks slowing into impasses as they tried to outsmart and outmaneuver one another. But still they circled, always circling, feet never standing still.

Regis thought to Asha’s comment the day previous, how she had felt stalked by him, and he understood why she was so perturbed by it perhaps more than another would have; she was used to being the predator, not they prey in every sense of the word. Her animal form was that of predator, she had been honed into a monster killing expert, a predator of monsters.

They clashed again in an explosion of sword strikes, the sounds echoing across the stucco houses and buildings.

In what was likely too fast for a human to really register, Geralt had managed to wrench Asha’s blade out of the way, the tip of his sword poised at her throat, but the witcheress was fast, and had her dagger, which had been sheathed for most of the match, was ready to be thrust into his armpit at any second.

The witchers froze, their breathing only slightly labored, before a wide grin spread across Asha’s face. “I think you were just a hair faster on that last one, you win.”

Geralt cracked a small smile, lowering his blade as Asha did the same. “That was a good match, best I’ve had in years.”

“Same here.” They sheathed their blades and clasped each other’s forearms.

“My, I will say that was fascinating. I believe she almost had you there more than a few times, Geralt.” Regis said as he stood from his seat.

“If this was a real fight, and she did that thing in Tesham Mutna, I don’t think it would have been much a fair fight. I’m surprised I still have my eyebrows after that.” The witcher grumbled.

She shrugged. “I gave you a heads up.”

“When Yen comes down here, you should ask her to show you a thing or two. Fire was more Triss’s thing, but Yen knows a lot about everything.”

“You do tend to have an affinity for fire magic, yes? And that sign with the strong wind.” Regis asked her.

“Igni and aard have always been the easiest signs for me, why? How’d you know that?”

Regis lightly tapped the side of his nose. “It’s likely too faint for even your enhanced senses to pick up, but you both have very… _particular_ smells. Of the two witchers I know have been acquainted with, it seems witchers on their own have their distinct scent. It’s… odd. You smell like everything and nothing, but it can be rather easily ignored. Geralt, yours is stronger though, I guess because of your additional mutations?” the witcher shrugged. “You, my dear, smell of a raptor, of magic, of a strong winter breeze and a fire. I merely deduced that you had more of an affinity to those two things.”

“I can’t believe you can just pick that up.” Asha said, crossing her arms, her head slightly tilted to one side.

Regis fiddled with the strap of his bag. “It’s admittedly harder to detect now, that the sangurium is long out of my system. But it’s still rather interesting information in my humble opinion.”

Marlene came out of the house, carrying a tray with refreshments.

Asha groaned and took the tray from the old woman. “Marlene you are a _saint_. Thank you.”

The old woman smiled at the witcheress. “You are more than welcome my dear.”

Asha set the tray on the small outdoor table, and both her and Geralt poured a healthy goblet of water and drank it down.

They sat at the table in a few moments of content silence, before Asha broke it. “So, how’d meeting again with Dettlaff go last night?”

Geralt’s eyes snapped to Regis.

The vampire cleared his throat. “He was rather indifferent to my pleas, I’m afraid. I’ve been gentle with him, but I think it will come down to him needing a firm voice telling him that he will have to stop, or she will die either way, and not drag himself down with her.”

“He still not happy about you working with two witchers?” Geralt asked.

Regis shook his head and glanced to Asha. “He’s more angry about you, my dear. Geralt he’s at least locked claw to blade with. He’s apparently heard of your reputation among some of his pack, and he’s far from happy, and trusting.”

Asha sank back in her chair. “If it comes down to it, I’ll leave if my being here causes this much an issue.”

“That won’t be necessary, provided you don’t harm his pack, which I don’t see being an issue.” The vampire replied.

“They keep to themselves I’ll keep to mine.”

“So,” Geralt started. “The handoff meeting is tomorrow night; we should leave by noon to get there in time enough for the ambush.” He looked to Asha. “So, if you need to do anything, you should do it today.”

She glanced up at the sun, it was barely midmorning. “I’ll go back into Beauclair, got a small-time contract. Local nobleman is complaining he can’t sleep because of the racket in the cemetery.”

“What do you think it is?” the witcher asked.

She shrugged. “Going off what he told me, probably a couple of angry specters. Though there doesn’t seem to have been any killings, could also just be some restless spirits. I’m hoping it’s a few restless spirits that can be asked nicely to knock it off and go collect my coin for it.”

“Regis?” Geralt asked.

“I will see you both after ambush, I’m going to try and persuade Dettlaff again, as futile as an endeavor as it is.”

“Walk with me to the city?” Asha asked.

“Of course, my dear.”

* * *

Before Regis and Asha parted ways at Lebioda’s Gate, Asha stopped the vampire. “Hey Regis, if you wouldn’t mind telling Dettlaff to relax a little about me? And maybe ask him to keep his pack out of any area I might be going so there’s no problem.”

The vampire sighed. “I can ask, but he will likely not like it. In his mind, he would be asking why his pack should move in accordance to one witcher. Perhaps it might be better if you intend to venture off the main roads that I accompany you, at the very least I can get any vampire to leave peacefully, if a bit irritated, but if his mood has improved at all, I will ask for you. If anything, it shows you’re trying.”

“Thanks, Regis.”

He smiled; his lips pursed. “Of course, my dear. Anything I can do to help. Good luck with your specters.” He left and started down the road that would bring him back to his home.

“Let’s hope it’s just that!” She called back after him, before venturing back into the city, off in pursuit of her quarry.

* * *

Regis sensed his blood brother before he even set foot in the crypt, and he sighed. He was hoping he’d have a few hours of peace before Dettlaff came.

He pushed the door open and shut it behind him, and made his way into the part of the crypt he lived in.

“Hello, Dettlaff.” The vampire greeted.

“Where have you been.” The other vampire demanded, annoyance written on his face.

So, it was going to be like that today then.

“I was at Corvo Bianco, with Geralt and Asha.”

Dettlaff had been leaning against the side of a stone coffin, his arms crossed, but at Regis’ words he bared his fangs and began to pace.

“Remind me why I’m even talking to you still, when you’re in league with those _hired to kill me_.” He snarled.

Regis sighed and set his bag of herbs on his desk. “We’ve been over this Dettlaff. Geralt and Asha want to help you as best they can. They’re working on a promising lead, which after tomorrow night will hopefully bear fruit.”

He stopped his pacing, turned into mist and reappeared at the balcony where Regis was at his desk. “If they fail her-“

“Dettlaff.” Regis interrupted. “I know you care about her, but you need to prepare yourself that even when we find her, that she will not be terribly happy to see you, that she likely will not be welcoming to your arms.”

“You don’t know a thing about her, Regis.” He was getting more and more irritated with each passing second.

Regis put his hands on both the man’s shoulders. “Dettlaff, I know how humans are. I only say these things because I don’t want to see you in more anguish than you already are.”

Dettlaff deflated a little, and nodded, barely imperceptible.

“Now,” Regis let go of him, and turned back to his desk, taking some of the herbs he had picked on his way home, preparing some to be ground, others to be dried and hung. “I do have some good news. I’ve spoken with Asha, and she has agreed to stop actively hunting vampires of all kind, for good. She’ll only take contracts or defend herself. So, your pack has nothing to fear from her.”

“She’s a murderer, Regis. I don’t understand why you would save her life and bring her into my pack.”

Regis turned around. “ _Our_ pack, Dettlaff. She’s tethered to me as I am to you. But I explained to her how dangerous the threat of an Elder is, and she relented. She’s like you, in a sense. She just needs to be shown the truth of things, our ways. She lashes out because she’s been taught that way, because one of our kind brutally killed her mother and left her for dead. Such things traumatize humans. It makes them act rashly, out of fear.”

Dettlaff’s face softened a fraction.

“Perhaps,” Regis started going back to his work, “Perhaps you should speak with her for yourself. She need not know that you’re, well, _you_. She’s rather good at figuring out vampires from our appearance, so I suggest if an outdoor meeting must happen, that you pick an overcast day or just stick to the shade. I believe she’s a touch paranoid and checks shadows or lack of one quite a bit. But she’s rather kind, very intelligent and humorous.”

“I’ll think on it.”

* * *

When he left Regis, Dettlaff had no intention to find the witcheress, but he was pulled to the city anyway, his mind flickering to his blood brother’s mention that she was in the city on what was likely a specter contract.

Since his home had been invaded by the other witcher, he had taken up residence in a cave not far outside the city, but high and secluded.

He would not follow her, but instead waited for her to pass him on her way through, so he could say he saw her. That would appease Regis.

The sun was low in the sky, casting Beauclair in the dark as the tightly-packed buildings blocked the sun.

She passed him, recognizable by her twin swords, but also because she was likely one of the only women in the duchy that carried weapons and wore armor. Dettlaff pushed off the wall from the alleyway he had been leaning in, following her at a respectful distance.

He felt a small hand at his belt, and then a child ran past him. Immediately he went to his purse. Gone. He began to take off after the child, his task of remaining unseen forgotten about for a moment, only for the little thief to be knocked off his feet, pulled back by some unseen force. The witcheress leaned down and scooped up his purse.

“Kid, you gotta step up your pickpocket game if you don’t wanna start losing fingers.”

The child, probably no more than eleven picked himself off the ground with wide eyes, staring at her, then her twin swords on her back.

“Why you are stealing anyway?” She asked him.

“My-my sister is little, mama’s too drunk to cook for us. I was gonna go get some bread and cheese.”

She looked in the stolen purse. “You could get a lot more than just bread and cheese with this.” She sighed and dug some coins out of her own purse and gave it to the boy. “Be more careful and go get you and your sister something to eat.”

With wide eyes, the boy took the coins and ran, the woman shook her head and turned her attention to him and tossed him his purse.

She smiled at him. “Kids, eh?”

She looked just as Regis had described her. Though Dettlaff towered over her, she was no small woman.

“No demand of payment? You are a Witcher.”

“I catch a thief that you probably could have handled with all of that.” She gestured vaguely to him, “and you think I’m gonna charge a finder’s fee?”

He thought a moment. “Perhaps not. You have my thanks.”

“No problem, just, keep your purse less easy to grab. Next pickpocket might not be as bad.” She turned on her heel with a wave and went back on her way.

This witcheress... was not as he expected.

* * *

Asha pulled open the door to Corvo Bianco, trying not to make too much noise, as she knew it was late, just in case Geralt was already asleep. As she was just about to creep up the stairs to her room in the loft, Geralt’s bedroom door opened.

“Shit, I didn’t wake you did I?”

Geralt cracked a smile. “No, I was still up. What was the monster?”

Asha rolled her eyes. “I almost _wish_ it had been a monster.” At Geralt’s quizzical look, she continued. “A couple, where ‘till death do us part’ was what they wished happened.”

Geralt chuckled, crossing his arms and leaning one shoulder on the doorframe. “At least it was easy? And the pay good?”

The witcheress scoffed, a smile on her lips. She dug into her pack, taking out a small stack of cards. “I moved the husband to the crypt for the local gwent guild. You want these? I’m not much a player myself.”

This peeked the other witcher’s interest, and he took the cards from her, shuffling through them. “These are pretty good.” He muttered.

“Well, you can keep them, but I’m keeping the coin.” She laughed, climbing the stairs. “Night Geralt!”

“Night Asha.” The other witcher muttered, still looking at the cards, his door closing with a soft click.

She climbed the rest of the stairs to her room and set down her pack at the foot of the bed, and as she had done a hundred times before, began to take off her weapons and thick leather armor. She organized it and got it ready for tomorrow, for the ambush that was planned.

Tomorrow she was officially on the contract to stop Dettlaff, and she felt rather uneasy about it. She still needed to see the duchess, and Geralt said that after the ambush, he would take her to the palace and introduce her.

Free of her armor, the witcheress pulled her linen shirt off, and went to the basin to wash off the sweat and dirt from the day, wishing she could take a long bath but understanding it was late, and she actually had no idea where the well was. For now, this would suffice, but she made a mental note to ask Geralt about it in the morning.

Despite the hard fight between her and Geralt that morning, her rising before the sun, and everything she had done that day, she felt no fatigue. In fact, she felt great. Better than great.

Dressing for bed, she thought back to the past few days, how so, so much had changed in such a short amount of time. She didn’t trust this Dettlaff, but since Regis trusted him, cared for him, she would try and at least set aside her loathing for vampires for just this time.

She felt conflicted, under her humor and light banter with Regis. She meant what she had said to Geralt, that night in the river. Sometimes he was so convincingly human she would start to forget he was a vampire. And Geralt’s comments, his allusion that Regis had once been _addicted_ to human blood, the thought had been at the forefront of her mind every time she looked at the vampire.

It was one of the reasons she was so terrified when he found her in the woods, bleeding, dying. Was she scared of dying? Not really. She was more pissed it would have been from the arrow of some fat nobleman, not dying defending a village from some creature. No, _Regis_ had scared her. It would have been all too easy to either let her die there, or for him to relapse.

He seemed so kind, gentle, and if that had happened she had a feeling that the vampire would live the rest of his immortal days never forgiving himself.

She’s wanted to ask him nearly half a dozen times, about his past, why he drank human blood, what made him stop, just, _why_.

Asha shook her head. She could worry about it later. There were more important things to worry about than why he felt like some sort of magnet, why she could _almost_ sense him when he was near. Spotting him flying in his mist form across the river wasn’t _much_ of a lie, but she more _felt_ he was near rather than actually seeing him. She decided she’d just keep that to herself for now.

With a resigned sigh, Asha crawled into the featherbed, and made another mental note to get Geralt a gift or something because she would never tire of sleeping in a real bed, especially one like this.

Because she wasn’t tired, Asha focused on her breathing, and slowly made herself fall asleep.

* * *

The bald, mustachioed man in the colors of the duchy looked just as Geralt had described, the white haired-witcher driving the cart with the stolen wine, while Asha was to help with the actual ambush.

The man’s eyes narrowed at her approach, his gaze flicking to her heavy leathers, minimal plate and chain, to the two swords on her back, and finally as she dismounted her horse and stood before him, her eyes reflecting in the light, did he speak.

“We don’t need another witcher, one is more than enough.” He grit out.

“Well, I’m afraid that’s rather up to Geralt and the duchess, isn’t it?” Still, she offered her hand, which he begrudgingly clasped forearms with her. “Asha of Kovir.”

“Captain Damien de La Tour.”

They were up on a ruined wall of the fort, so Asha took her shortbow from her back, and strung it.

“Tell me where you need me. I’m the best shot you have here.”

He shook his head and sighed. “Ideally we would have someone up there,” He pointed to a half-ruined tower, which wasn’t terribly high up anymore, but would be a great vantage point. “But we lack the climbing gear and it’s too dangerous.”

“So you send the witcher you don’t want up there?” she joked, giving him a half smile to ease the tension. Geralt liked the man, despite the captain’s distaste for the two of them being there. When he glowered, she put a hand on his shoulder as she took a step past him. “It’s no problem.” She tossed her bow in the air a few feet, the captain turning to look at her, the other soldiers also turning their attention to the woman that was now in their midst, as she turned into a puff of golden smoke.

Asha caught her bow in her talons mid-flight, and flew up to the ruined tower, coming to rest on the crumbling stone, she transformed back into her not-quite-human self, and got into position.

From her distance, she saw the men’s agape mouths stare at her, so she waved and ducked down to hide more. Now all they had to do was wait for Geralt to show up for the hand off.

* * *

Geralt rode into the ruined fort, his silver-white hair and armor hidden beneath a cloak despite the balmy summer night. Asha kept low to the top of the wall, the few torches burning already, casting the ruined courtyard in an eerie light. Geralt didn’t have to wait long, as only a few moments passed before the sounds of hooves and several carts sounded in the distance. Two cartfuls of bandit-looking types pulled into the courtyard and Asha nocked an arrow.

Presumably the leader spoke to Geralt, who grew suspicious and agitated at the witcher. Asha pulled back her bowstring. He was the leader, they needed him alive. She took aim to the man’s unarmored calf. She didn’t envy him. It was gonna hurt like a bitch. The man drew his sword, and Asha loosed her arrow, eyes widening when a crossbow bolt went through the man’s neck mere milliseconds before her arrow found its target.

“Fucking trigger-happy soldiers.” She muttered, leaping off the tower, transforming, then reverting to land gracefully on the ground, drawing her blade before the others around her even knew what was happening.

There was a good number of the thugs, but between her blade and Geralt’s, their numbers dwindled.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the captain locked in combat with two of the men, a third about to strike a killing blow.

Without hesitation, she pulled a throwing knife from her belt and hurtled it at the man, quickly coming to the captain’s aid. The men dead on the ground, the bald man grimaced and nodded at her, and they dispatched the rest of the men, one clutching an arrow in his shoulder.

Asha wiped her blade off with a scrap of cloth she cut off one of the corpses, handing it to Geralt, who did the same.

“Which one of you dumbasses killed the leader? We needed _that_ one alive.” Asha grumbled.

De la Tour crossed his arms as one of his men forced the thug to kneel. “I did.”

“Figures.” She muttered.

“I shall go fetch Her Grace.”

Geralt stood next to Asha. “I figured she’d be nearby, guess you get an earlier introduction.” He quietly remarked.

“Great, and I’m covered in blood.”

“You look fine.”

“Says the man that smells like horse.”

De la Tour returned, a cloaked woman a few paces ahead of him.

“Captain, if you would do the honors.” She said, her voice light and clear. Her eyes lingered over Asha for a moment, before flicking to the wounded man.

“Who sent you?” de la Tour asked.

The man spat. “His name is dog. They say he ploughed your mother.”

The captain struck the man with the back of his plated gauntlet before he could barely finish his remark.

Agitation settled over the captain. “Once again- who sent you?”

“Your nan’s love! They call him-“ the thug’s words were cut off by the captain twisting the bolt in the man’s shoulder.

“This is getting us nowhere.” She muttered to Geralt. “Follow me.”

Asha sauntered in front of the thug, anger coming off de la Tour in waves at her intrusion.

“Your Grace, if I may?” she asked.

The other woman nodded. “Very well.”

“Do you know what I am?” She asked.

“A fucking whore.” He spat at her feet.

She kneeled down at his level a few feet away. “I’m a witcheress. And if you spit on me, I’m going to punch out what teeth you have left after that punch the captain gave you, got it?” he was silent, fear in his eyes. “Good boy. Now, here’s the thing, Geralt and I are trying to help the lovely duchess here catch the Beast of Beauclair. And, fortunately for us, and unfortunately for you, we happened to be out of fresh, live, screaming bait. But not anymore.”

His eyes widened. “Wh-what?”

“That’s right, passed a real nice hanging tree on my way here.” Geralt chimed in, coming to Asha’s side as she stood back up.

The duchess spoke. “Captain, if you would please fetch a rope for the witchers here-“

“Wait! Okay I’ll talk.”

Geralt crossed his arms. “Where were the barrels going?”

“I- I don’t know.”

“Captain, need that rope after all.” The witcher replied.

“I truly don’t know! Hormiz, the leader, only he ever knew where to go… but he’s over there… dead.” Asha gave a pointed look to the captain. He continued, “The first barrel went to a warehouse at the port. But where this one was bound I don’t know. I speak true, you must believe me!”

“Who hired you?” Asha asked.

The man lowered his head. “He- he’ll kill me!”

“And you don’t think being ripped to shreds by the Beast won’t hurt worse?”

He hesitated.

“Go on man, spit it out.” de la Tour pressed.

“The _Cintrian_ , that’s what they call him. I’ve never seen him, but I know he mustered the men for this caper. That’s what they said, that we were working for the Cintrian. I don’t know anything else, I swear it.”

Asha glanced at Geralt.

The duchess stepped forward and motioned to her captain. “Take him away and throw him in the dungeon. He shall await trial there.” A few guardsman came forward and hauled the man away. “Captain, we ride to the city. Gather your men and seek out this Cintrian. Someone else must have seen him, must know of him.”

“Yes Your Grace, I’ll report to the palace as soon as I learn anything.”

“I shan’t return to the palace just yet, as our mission has not ended. The witchers and I will await you at the guard post near the port, after I have been property introduced to the newest addition to this contract, that is.”

Asha bowed slightly. “Asha of Kovir, Your Grace, of the Gryphon school.”

“I did not know that women could be witchers.”

She resisted the urge to sigh. “We’re not common but we existed.”

A reddish brow rose under the duchess’s hood. “You stand before me.”

“I may very well be the last, Your Grace.”

“A shame. We need more women like you, I think.”

Asha smiled. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“Come Geralt, Asha, we have a long ride back to the city.”

* * *

They spoke little on the way back, and the moon was high in the sky, the hour very late. Asha was glad she wasn’t tired, or she might have fallen asleep in her saddle. Again.

They got to the guard post, the streets of Beauclair mostly quiet. She knew why the search had to be done quickly, as this Cintrian would likely catch that they were on to him and disappear into the wind.

They waited in the guard post the rest of the night, and soon the first few rays of light broke through the window. The duchess looked exhausted, but she alternated between pacing and nearly falling asleep with her head on the rough wooden table. 

Geralt was seated in a chair, Asha the same but at the table, her feet propped up in Geralt’s lap as she idly twirled a throwing knife.

“He should be back by now.” Anna Henrietta said, worrying her lip between her bottom teeth.

One gold eye popped open from the witcheress. She was beginning to suspect that the duchess and her captain wasn’t _just_ what their titles said.

“He’s fine.” Geralt muttered.

She stopped her pacing a short moment before resuming her path. “How can you both be so calm?”

“Witchers tend to not get jitters, side effects of our mutations.” Geralt explained.

“That,-“ Asha added. “And sitting and waiting is a rather large part of the job description.”

“What if something has happened to him?” Anna Henrietta whispered.

“Captain seems like a man who can take care of himself.” Geralt replied.

She scoffed. “Perhaps he can, but this Cintrian appears to be no common bandit. He managed to steal dual wine from under my guardsmen’s noses. We only learned of it though a fortunate coincidence. And it was he who specified the victims for the vampire. One must be exceptionally confident to blackmail such a monster.”

“Or exceptionally stupid.” Asha remarked. “Plus, I don’t think he’s the mastermind of this plot. I think he’s the middleman.”

Anna Henrietta turned to her. “Oh? And why is that?”

Asha shrugged. She’d keep her theory about the last target quiet for now, provided Geralt didn’t bring it up. “Just a hunch. With Emhyr losing his grip on Nilfgaard, and Radovid pushing farther and farther south, they might be looking to try and destabilize the region.” Not _truly_ what she thought, but a convincing argument, nonetheless.

The duchess was about to reply, but both Asha and Geralt’s attention snapped to the door, Asha taking her feet from Geralt’s lap as they both stood.

“Someone’s coming.” Geralt said.

A clearly exhausted guard captain entered, and Asha pulled the chair she was sitting in over to him. He nodded his thanks.

“Captain, why so long? We expected you hours ago.” Anna Henrietta said.

De la Tour sighed. “This Cintrian does not work alone. We are fighting an organization, not one man. Bandits attacked us, not a small force either. One of my boys has a broken arm, another, a shattered knee… lamed for life. And word on the street is there’s a hefty bounty on your head, Geralt.”

Geralt shrugged. “Used to it. Not the first time I’ve been hunted.”

“And not on me? Makes a girl feel left out.”

The captain glanced at the witcheress. “Must you? Anyway… the port warehouse where the wine was delivered, we identified it, then learned who had hired it out. It was a beggar, a stand in. We found him, and he admitted all. A man had paid him to sign the lease, a man he met while begging outside the Pheasantry. There, fate lent us a hand. A waitress recalled spilling wine on a nobleman that spoke with a Cintrian accent.”

“What did he look like?” Geralt asked.

“Her description was not helpful. Handsome, well-dressed, with a beard, no distinguishing marks. This could be anyone. But, she did remember his female companion very well, as she recognized her. On the Cintrian’s arm was Cecilia Bellante.”

“The singer? I’ve heard of her. She’s said to be very gifted.” Anna Henrietta remarked, surprised.

“The very same. We went to her home immediately, but she was not there. Her servants said she was out in the countryside for a few days, but will return by the end of the week for a reception mounted by the Mandragora. When we asked about the Cintrian, they said that they believe she was to accompany him there.”

“I bet Cecilia is out in the countryside with him.” Asha said, crossing her arms and resting a hand under her chin.

“What’s this Mandragora?” Geralt asked.

“A club, an affiliation of local artists. Painters, sculptors, troubadours, and dancers.” The duchess explained. “They think themselves the artistic elite, and they mount soirees every once in a while. It’s a rather elaborate affair. They all wear elaborate masks, then drink and dance and flirt.”

“He likely knows we’re onto him.” Asha started. “He’ll be able to see Geralt and I coming from a mile away, any guardsman too. We need to back off, give him some space and act like we hit a dead end. Then we sneak into the party and grab him before he disappears into the wind.”

De la Tour nodded. “You read my mind, witcher. When it comes time for the party I will have my men posted around the establishment, not even a mouse will get through.”

Anna Henrietta interjected. “Out of the question. He has men about the city, he will find out and escape again, likely for good. We will go to the party, and do as Asha has said.”

“We, Your Grace?” The captain asked.

“Geralt, Asha, and myself will attend. In such company, the witchers will likely need my help, but that leaves Asha without someone to accompany her. A lone woman coming to a party would be odd.”

“I could find a perch and keep an eye out from the sky.” Asha offered.

“How would you…?”

“Or you could take Regis.” Geralt suggested. “He’s got a… keen eye. Could be of use.”

“Regis is here? I had no idea he had returned to Toussaint.” A small smile touched the duchess’s lips.

“I can ask him.” Asha said.

“When you do, please ask him to come see me at the palace, I would very much enjoy catching up with him.” Anna Henrietta said.

“You know of him, Your Grace?” The witcheress asked.

She nodded. “Regis has known my family for decades. He would visit sometimes when I was a little girl.”

“I’ll pass on your request, Your Grace.”

“One more thing, the three of you must be in the proper attire. Asha, I would lend you one of my old dresses, but… I’m afraid I don’t think you’d fit.”

The witcheress rolled her shoulders and smiled. “I have a velvet doublet a Koviri noble gave me after saving his daughter from a gryphon. I’m not much of a dress person, Your Grace.”

“You may arouse suspicion, if you do not.”

The witcheress deflated a little. “I’ll find something then.” A smirk touched Geralt’s lips and she punched his shoulder. “Don’t be a dick about it or I’ll put you in a dress too.”

Anna Hentietta smiled. “I will see you both at the end of the week. I’ll have Damian or one of his guards send you both your invitations to Corvo Bianco as well as instructions where we will meet before the party.”

She took her leave, de la Tour following her.

Asha groaned. “I’ve worn two dresses in my life for a contract and I was hoping to keep it that way.”

“What are you going to do?” Geralt asked as they too left the guard post and mounted their horses.

“I’m going to find a tailor to make me a skirt that goes with my doublet that I can just take off as soon as I need to. And yes, I’m wearing trousers and my riding boots under it. We won’t be able to have our swords but I’m not going in there without a backup plan in case things get ugly.”

Geralt grunted. “Good idea.”


	6. Scavenger Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A scavenger hunt, and a little tension.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, my executive dysfunction has hit me really hard lately and its a struggle to do anything that's not knitting for some reason. Which is a big problem when you have 3 projects to finish in like 3 weeks lmao. Speaking of, would any of y'all be interested in seeing what I've done with myself for the last 4 years?? When my website and portfolio is up I can link it in the notes if anyone is interested??? Idk I'm tired lol.

It was midmorning by the time Geralt and Asha had made it back to Corvo Bianco, both witchers tired after the long day and night they had had.

Geralt was the first through the door, and grumbled a greeting to Regis, who rose from his seat at the table upon their entry.

“I hope all went well? Considering how long the two of you were gone, that is.” The vampire said.

“We found out who we were looking for, but we’re looking for his employer. And he’s in the wind until the end of the week, where he’s expected to be at a party.” Geralt said, before disappearing into his room, the telltale thump of his bag being deposited on the ground sounding through the opened bedroom door.

“A party?” Regis asked, brows raised.

Asha readjusted her saddlebags on her shoulder. “A fancy one, thrown by artists, hosted by some rich noblewomen in Hauteville. But, since the duchess has invited herself along, I find myself having to have some sort of male company, if you’d be willing to slog it out with the rest of us.”

Regis regarded the witcheress carefully. She looked tired, her eyes not as bright as they had been yesterday, and even despite the heavy bags she had on her shoulder opposite to her blades, she didn’t stand as tall as she usually did. Even still, a half-assed smile was on her lips.

She smiled a lot more than Regis thought she did, now that she was far more comfortable in her setting, around Geralt, around him.

“I’d love to accompany you, my dear.” Regis didn’t particularly care for fancy parties or nobles, unless he was in an opportunity to have a bit of harmless fun at their unwitting expense, but for some reason he found the idea of sneaking into this party with her and Geralt rather… _fun_.

“Great! But it’s a _fancy_ party,” her voice changed for just a moment, a crude mimic of the Toussaint accent, “So we’re all going to have to go shopping, sooner rather than later. Oh, and the duchess says hello and wants you to drop by and see her at some point.”

He smiled, lips pursed. “It will be good to see Anarietta again, I haven’t seen her for quite a few years.”

Asha stood at the bottom of the staircase. “Look at you, friends in high places.”

* * *

A few hours later, after scrubbing the blood and dirt off her skin and her armor, and a quick nap, Asha found Regis out in the herb garden.

He stood at the sound of her footsteps. “You know, you are rather quiet when you walk, when not in armor.” He brushed the soil from his fingers.

“You’d be surprised how quiet I am when in armor, even.

An amused smile crossed Regis’s lips. “Not to me.”

“Well, most creatures of the world don’t have vampiric hearing.”

The vampire chuckled. “Was there something you needed?”

“Oh, right. Geralt and I are going into the city to find a tailor, figured I’d let you know, in case you don’t just have some formal wear in your crypt lair.”

“Ah yes, of course. Are you ready now?”

“I am, got Grey Wind ready. I think his Lordship is still fixing his hair.”

Regis chuckled. It’s good to see you and Geralt get on like you do. I think he misses his fellows far more than he’d let on.”

They fell into an easy pace back to the stables.

“Yeah, I get that. I think we’re all a bit like that, to be honest. Geralt reminds me of Svald a bit.” She smiled at her memory.

“Another witcher?”

“He was in my group. He came into Kaer Seren a few months after I did, and we were about the same age. He always said how unfair it was that I kicked his ass all the time in training, because I just had but a couple months head start on my training.”

“You seem like you were close with him.” Regis said, and they gently brushed shoulders as walked.

A sad smile crossed her lips. “He was like my brother. He had lost his parents to bandits, Old Keldar had found him wandering the main road in Kaedwen, half-starved and half dead. I know he survived the sack of Kaer Seren, we traveled a bit together after but we split up after that season. I haven’t seen him in oh, a decade maybe? I wonder if he’s even still alive.”

“If he has any of your skill and tenacity, I’m sure he is, my dear.”

When they got to the stables, Geralt was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed.

“About damn time.” He grumbled.

The witcheress lightly – at least for a witcher – punched her counterpart in the arm. “You’re the one that was fixing his hair and told me to get Regis. If you brushed it before you got in the bath _and_ brushed it out before sleeping it wouldn’t be a mess like that, you know.”

He swatted at her in retaliation and grumbled. “Yeah, yeah.”

* * *

“Just don’t get why you’re grumbling about a dress this much.”

Asha blinked at Geralt from across the table, swallowed her food, and then took a deep inhale. “You’re joking right? You were bitching about wearing a damn doublet the whole time the tailor took your measurements and you have the _audacity_ to ask why I’m pissed I gotta be in a dress?”

He shrugged. “They seem more comfortable.”

“Geralt.”

“Asha.”

“Let me put you in a corset and you’ll see how comfortable it is.”

“Not happening.”

“Then don’t ask why I’m grumbling about it.” Asha and Geralt stared at one another across the table for a moment before Geralt rose a brow, and Asha broke into a grin. Gods, she had missed this. Missed the companionship of another witcher, missed having a companion at all. The last few decades on the path had been lonely, only Grey Wind to really talk to.

They both finished their meal, Asha was going to have to start helping Marlene, even though the woman chased her out of the kitchen the last time she offered, if anything to figure how she made her croissants. They just melted in your mouth.

“So, you staying around here tomorrow? Might be better to since this Cintrian has a bounty on you.” Asha asked, taking a sip of wine.

“Yeah. BB wanted to talk about replanting some vines or something for next year, since some kind of fungus killed the other ones. And I figured I’d work on the garden, get some useful herbs growing.”

“Are you retiring from the Path after this contract? Since you have a place of your own, means of income, might be a nice idea.”

Geralt was quiet a moment, staring into his wine glass.

He sighed. “I’ve been thinking about it. I wrote to Yen, she’s been finishing up some business with the Lodge. But aside from some small local contracts? Yeah, I think I might retire.”

A smile touched her lips. “Must be nice, to have that option. I figured I’d go on to Nilfgaard after this. It’s where I was going in the first place.”

“You can stay here if you want.”

“I’m not gonna intrude on you and Yennefer.”

“Then at least stay here for the winters. I know what it’s like to sleep in an abandoned shack for a few weeks during early snows. I can’t imagine it for a whole season.”

Asha set down the crystal glass and crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s hard. If it wasn’t for a witcher’s metabolism and pretty much going into hibernation for a few days at a time, I would have starved.”

They fell into an uneasy silence, the two veteran witchers knowing all too well the harsh reality of living on the Path.

Geralt broke the silence after another sip of wine. “Any plans for tomorrow for you, then?”

“Going diagram hunting. I need a new silver sword, preferably sooner than later. I have a feeling I’m going to need it before the end of this debacle.”

The witcher across the table grunted. “Glad it’s not just me.”

* * *

“So, according to some of the locals, the ruins of Fort Ussar should be those pile of stones on that far hill over there.” Asha pointed.

Regis shielded his eyes against the harsh afternoon sun. They had flown here, covering far more ground as bird and mist than they would have even on horseback. “Seems as if the ruins aren’t deserted.” He remarked.

Sure enough, the blueish-silver scales of a draconid gleamed in the golden light of Toussaint.

“Slyzard, probably. Two of them at least.”

A light breeze ruffled Regis’s hair, and the vampire took a deep inhale. “It’s rather faint from here, but one is wounded. I can smell it.”

Asha gave him a wry smile. “I should keep you around, help with tracking.”

Regis gave her a small bow. “I’m at your service.”

“We should get over there, deal with the slyzards and hope the diagrams are there and haven’t disintegrated some thirty odd years ago.”

Asha quickly transformed and took flight, Regis following her.

The slyzards was not a breeding pair, as Asha originally thought. Just a mother and a mostly grown youngling.

The mother fought well but fell to Asha’s precise strikes. Regis hovered in the air, staying out of her way.

When both the draconids drew their last breath, Regis materialized beside her.

“Not much for fighting, are you?” She asked.

“I thought it might be better if I stayed out of your way. And that you would be more comfortable not having a vampire on the battlefield. After Tesham Mutna especially.”

Her eyes widened. “Regis, we’re fine now. I’ll admit I’m not used to having something that’s that much quicker than I on my side but I’m not going to be offended. I know what you are and what you look like. It’s not like it’s a shock.”

The vampire was unreadable, until a ghost of smile graced his thin lips.

They stood like that for what seemed like hours, staring at one another, until the cawing of a raven knocked them out of the trance they were in.

Asha shook her head and knelt by the youngling, a faint blush burning her cheeks.

“Get it together.” She mumbled to herself.

“What was that, my dear?”

“Oh! Nothing.” She cleared her throat. “Just that judging by how this one was hurt already, this was a mercy kill. Its wing was broken, and there’s no way it would have healed enough to fly, and it likely would have caused a great deal of pain the more it grew.”

“And this nest seems rather close to some more populated areas. Rather dangerous for locals.”

She sighed. “Yeah, Geralt would have probably had to come out here anyway.” She glanced over to the nest that was nestled between some of the crumbling ruins. “Need to burn the eggs, they won’t survive without mama slyzard.” She approached the nest, and with a twirl of fingers a white-hot jet of flame erupted from her palm, filling the air with an unpleasant smell. She wrinkled her sensitive nose at it.

“Right, shall we try and find some evidence of your brother in arms?” Regis asked.

The pair picked through the ruins, Asha finding a chest buried under the ruins of and old staircase. She picked some of the stones off it, trying to clear it enough to get to the iron bound chest. The rotting wood creaked under the shifting of the stones, but it looked mostly intact. Regis rounded a corner of a wall and helped her move some of the larger stones, the two of them with their supernatural strength moving them with ease.

“Is it too much to hope for?” she asked both Regis and herself as the lid was finally free enough to open. The already weakened wood was no issue to get through, though the rusted iron was troublesome. Regis grabbed the metal and with little effort, it snapped. Asha raised a brow.

“Do you actually know how much weight a vampire can carry without straining?” She asked.

Regis thought a moment. “I will say, I’ve never actually bothered to see.” His dark eyes narrowed at a rather mischievous expression that came over the witcheress. “What are you planning?”

“I’m wondering how Geralt and I would fare against you in arm wrestling.”

With a smile Regis shook his head. “Isn’t that a bit childish?”

Asha shrugged, grinning. “For science?”

The vampire chuckled. “For science, perhaps.” He reached into the chest, and pulled out a stack of papers, that were in rather remarkable condition, and handed them to Asha.

She shuffled through them, her eyes widening as she looked though several of the pages.

“Any luck?” Regis asked.

“Boots, steel sword, and gauntlets. And,” She shook her head as she read another page. “Jerome was here, had these at one point. Should have figured that. Looks like he was hired to track a leshen over by Mont Crane Castle. That should be where we head next.”

“I believe it’s southeast of here.”

“Yeah, but something wounded that slyzard.” She looked out over the cliff edge. “The blood’s still fresh enough to track, we should go follow it. Might be something at the other end.”

* * *

They followed the blood trail to a quarry nearby, where they discovered that the slyzard had dropped a cow on a worker that was at the worst place, at the worst time. The workers were less inclined to believe her, but she killed the ghouls and explained to the foreman what she deduced happened.

Regis kept a respectable distance while Asha worked, and haggled for the price of a contract she had unknowingly already completed. One of the workers approached him.

“So you a witcher’s accountant or something?”

“Ah, no I’m a surgeon actually.”

“So witchers got themselves a doctor to follow ‘em around now?”

“Not at all, we’re just traveling companions.”

“She your bodyguard then? Old guy like you would probably be easy for them bandits up at the old castle.”

“Bandits you say? In Mont Crane Castle?”

The man nodded. “Nasty bunch too.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind, thank you.”

Asha approached Regis and the worker, who wolf whistled. 

The witcheress rolled her eyes. Regis fell into step with her as they left the quarry, Asha content her purse was much heavier than when they had entered.

“The worker said that the castle was filled with bandits.” Regis said.

Asha sighed. “Wonderful.”

“I think that we should use our rather innate talent for blending in and getting into places we likely should be to good use, don’t you think?”

“I don’t feel like getting covered in blood again, so I agree.”

They walked along the road. The castle was only a few miles away, and the hour was early, and the day lovely. The companionable silence stretched, Asha and Regis occasionally brushing shoulders.

“Hey Regis?” She asked after a while.

“Yes, my dear?” She hesitated, and the vampire glanced down at her. “Something troubling you?” his brows knit together.

“Geralt said, before Tesham Mutna, that you used to be...”

“An addict, yes.” He sighed. “It’s not something I particularly like to talk about, as you can imagine.”

“Don’t worry about it then.”

“No, I understand your concern. I would be too, in your shoes. I’m no longer a danger, aside from that one, isolated incident at Tesham Mutna.” Regis thought back to the day he had found her in the woods, an arrow in her chest. The fear in her eyes. Had she been scared of him then? “It was… a difficult time for me. I was rather wild in my youth. I fell into the wrong group, and they enticed me to a lifestyle I detest. There were times, I found the willpower to leave. I would go deep into the woods to isolate myself, try and stop. I once went a whole three months without a drop, but they had found me, and dragged me back in. That was the last time before Fox Hollow.”

“What happened in Fox Hollow?”

Regis glanced at her. She was looking intently at him, though there was no fear in her eyes, no hint of disgust.

“I relapsed, _hard_. I slaughtered half the town, and the local militia decided they had enough. I was so drunk I couldn’t walk, much less fly. But when a dozen or so angry villagers come at you with pitchforks, you tend to make bad decisions. I flew straight into the well. They fished me out, staked me in the heart a few times, wrapped me in some iron chains, and shoved a few heads of garlic in my mouth. Then cut off my head for good measure. They buried me out in the woods, and left me there, forgotten. It took me some fifty or so years to regenerate? Give or take a few years that was trying to work up the willpower to move myself from my shameful grave. I had no idea how long it had been, to be completely honest.”

“Fifty years is an awful long time to force sobriety.”

“Indeed. I exited the ground like a rather monstrous spring daisy. I gathered my bearings, and eventually took up a surgeon practice in Dillingen.”

Asha chewed on her bottom lip. “Is that why you chose to be a doctor? To try and atone for all the pain and suffering you caused?”

Her words caught him off guard, and he paused, mid step. Asha noticed this, and stopped as well, standing in front of him.

“I- I suppose so. Though I can never truly make up for those already short lives I cut even shorter.” Regis studied her for a moment.

Her hair shown like liquid gold in the afternoon sun, the bright light bringing the light smattering of freckles that dusted her nose and cheeks all the more.

“I rather hope this doesn’t taint our friendship.” He said, uncertainty in his voice.

“No, you were honest, and you’re trying to atone for what you did. I… horribly misjudged you at the start of this, Regis. I think I’ve let anger and fear rule me too much. This whole experience, I’m going to use it to turn over a new leaf.”

He smiled at her, a small hint of his fangs poking through. “I’m so glad to hear that, my dear.”

They continued down the road, the ruined castle dominating the mountain before them.

“Would you mind answering your own invasive question?” Regis asked.

“Question for question? Are we playing that game now?”

“It’s only fair, don’t you think?”

She shrugged. “Sure, go ahead.”

“Do you remember the vampire that killed your mother? What he looked like?”

He heard the air leave her lungs, her body stopping mid stride and going taught like a bowstring.

“I- yes.”

They reversed their positions from before, Regis now coming to stand before her, his dark eyes searching.

“He was huge, probably about as broad-shouldered as Geralt. With red hair and blue eyes.” She wasn’t looking at him, rather, staring at a small rock on the ground.

Regis sighed. “It’s as I thought.”

At his words, her head snapped up, her cat eyes meeting his. “What do you mean?”

“His name is Alban Corvinus Dimakos de Ven. He and I were in the same _rambunctious_ group of young vampires for the longest time. I never cared for him. He was rather a brute, had a backwards way of thinking about the other inhabitants of this world. Thinking of them as simply cattle, as simple beings only here for our amusement. His ideals were not _uncommon_ for that group, but his were by far the extreme. He had a particular love of the blood of magic users.”

A cool rage settled over her features. “So, you had these ideals too.” She snapped.

“No, not at all, my dear. I was young and stupid, gave in to the pressure of my peers. I’ve always found humans to be wonderfully fascinating, I did not want to hurt any of you.”

Her features softened a fraction. “But you still joined them.”

He sighed. “I did. It is the most shameful thing I’ve ever done, will ever do.”

“Of all the things to ask, why ask me that?” Her anger, it seemed subsided rather quickly, replaced with sorrow.

“When you told me, I had my suspicions on who it might have been. Only Alban would have been so reckless and careless. Honestly why and how he left you alive I have no idea. But I thought you might want to at least know his name, put an identity to the nameless monster, so to speak.”

“Thank you, Regis. For being honest, for telling me. And I know I promised to not hunt vampires anymore, but if I see him I’m tearing him apart.”

“As I suspected you might. I can only hope for your sake you never cross paths with him.” He paused, glancing at the sky. “Come, we should get to the castle to find your diagrams before it gets late.”

* * *

Sunset was still a few hours off, so an eagle flying far overhead the courtyard of Mont Crane Castle wasn’t out of the ordinary.

It was _crawling_ with bandits and brigands. It was going to be nearly impossible to try and find where the diagrams were, if they hadn’t been found and burned as fire fuel.

Asha dove low, her keen eyes looking for any hint or sign of what used to be. 

Suddenly, she felt a small trickle of magic. It felt like an illusion of some kind. She landed on the top of the wall where it seemed to be the strongest, and sure enough, she felt that the wall was not all that it seemed.

Taking flight once more, she glided down to where Regis was hiding nor far off the main road, but out of sight from the guards at the crumbling entrance to the castle.

“There’s an illusion. The report mentioned a mage, likely Jerome’s father. He must have enchanted the wall to hide something.”

“How in the open is it?”

Asha grimaced. “Very. There’s at least a dozen around, there’s no way I’ll be able to sneak in, even under the cover of night. There’s a campfire right in front of it.”

“We may have to fight after all.”

“The courtyard is split between an upper and lower, if we’re quiet, we can probably deal with them without alerting the main camp.”

Regis crossed his arms, one hand resting under his nose, the vampire deep in thought. “If you wouldn’t mind giving me a moment, then follow me.”

“What are you-“

He vanished in a cloud of mist, the dark cloud shooting off towards the ruins.

“I guess that’s one way to do it.” Asha mumbled, jogging back to the road.

As she neared, her enhanced hearing picked up no sound, not even birds sang.

The guards lay dead, their heads nearly taken off, and that was the case for the rest of the men inside the lower courtyard.

Regis stood, tall and regal like always, cleaning his hands with a scrap cloth.

“They likely did not deserve such quick deaths, but they were quick and mostly painless nonetheless.” He said at her approach.

Asha surveyed the massacre, then looked to Regis. He looked so harmless, his physical appearance, his demeanor was so far off from the creature he actually was, was capable of.

She approached him slowly.

“Is something the matter, my dear?”

Asha stepped into his space, her brows pulled together. “You make it so easy to forget exactly how dangerous you are. I can’t shake it.”

She stared at him for only a quick moment, before she quickly looked away. “That’s the wall.” She hastily strode to the wall in question, the plaster in strangely remarkable shape on most of it in the center, compared to the way the brick and plaster coating alike crumbled around it.

She felt Regis behind her, as she put her hand on the wall and muttered a few words in Elder Speech. The wall vanished, revealing a doorway.

“A secret laboratory perhaps?” He asked.

A ball of fire erupted from her hand as Asha took a step into the musty room.

It was clearly once a study or record room of some kind, though the shelves and desks had long started to rot and collapse under their own weight.

They poked around, Regis finding a large stone half buried under a few rotting books. “Isn’t this an elven portal crystal?”

“It is. There must be the portal it goes to around here somewhere.”

Asha squinted at a tapestry that was somehow still barely hung from the ceiling. She pulled it back, and the whole thing fell with a cloud of dust. The witcheress coughed and waived her hand in front of her face, trying to clear the stale air. “There it is.”

Regis handed her the stone and she slotted into place, casting a sign at it as she did. The portal roared to life.

“Shall we?” she asked.

They fell through the portal together. Asha always hated portals like this one, it always made her feel odd, made her magic hum in a strange way she didn't particularly care for.

And it often made one's footing unstable when coming out the other side, which was how she found herself on the cold floor of a cave. It also seemed that a vampire wasn't immune to the jarring effects portaling had on one's self, as Regis had landed on top of her.

They locked eyes, Asha’s flickering to his mouth for less than a fraction of a second, Regis's widened, his body stiff, having caught himself before he landed his full weight on her.

"Regis." she breathed.

Movement over his shoulder startled her, and in a fluid motion, she rolled them, a huge rock hand smashed the cave floor where they had just been. Asha crouched over the vampire and drew her sword.

Bewilderment washed over Regis’s face before he saw the golem too, who had picked his massive 'hand' up and was ready to bring it down on them again.

Regis misted away, and Asha somersaulted out of its reach, avoiding the monster's blows, stood, and threw an aard sign at the creature, the powerful and frigid gust of wind unbalancing the huge pile of rocks.

"Good thing I'm getting a new sword." she muttered as she leapt after the monster, burying her blade into the cracks of the rocks that made up its chest, destroying the magic within, but not before the creature snapped the sword off halfway.

The rocks fell, the golem giving off one last screech of life before the cave was still.

Asha picked up her now broken silver sword and sighed, summoning a ball of fire in one hand so she wouldn't have to strain her eyes in the pitch blackness.

Regis appeared next to her, and even in the dim light of her fire she swore she saw red tinging his cheeks and ears.

They searched the makeshift dungeon room, Asha letting out a quiet “Ah-ha!” when she found two of the diagrams, and the vampire handed her the last one, the schematics for the silver sword.

“I knew Jerome when I was a kid. Ivost said that they all thought he had died years before, but one winter he rode into Kaer Seren, looking better than ever. He told us all how his father had kidnapped him and experimented on him to turn him into a regular human again, but it only made him stronger. After Kaer Seren was sacked, I didn’t see him again. I wonder what happened to him.” Asha mused aloud.

“How many Gryphons are left?” Regis asked.

“Old Keldar was killed when those fucking mages brought the mountain on top of the keep. I met up with Ivost last winter, I heard that Coën died in the Battle of Brenna, but everyone else was in the wind. Not like there was a lot of us anyway.” She shrugged.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. The second Kaer Seren was buried it was the end of the Gryphons. Geralt and I are the last handful of a dying guild. I came to terms with it a long time ago.”

“Do you think you are the last witcheress?”

“I was one of the very few to begin with, so more than likely.”

They wandered around, looking for anything else useful, when Asha’s fingers brushed her medallion over her leather and chain armor.

“There’s something here…” She placed her hand on a rock and muttered a few words in the Elder Speech, and the rock dissolved away, as did the rest of the rock wall.

“How much magic do you actually know?”

Asha gave him a cock-eyed grin. “We knew more than the mages wanted us to know, and a simple illusion-dispelling spell isn’t anything hard. But I can say I know more than Geralt, that’s for sure.”

“You should speak with Yennefer, if you get the chance. Perhaps she can show you more.”

“Yeah, maybe. Geralt said the same thing.”

They picked their way through the narrow passage, the dim rays of light from the cave mouth indicating they were at least nearly back above ground.

"Good thing this cave leads outside, or we might have been stuck in there for a while. Recharging portals are-" Hissing and movement ahead of them stopped Asha in her tracks, her eyes squinting in the low light of the cave, when she made out the unmistakable shape of a fleder, no, two. "Shit."

Regis stood in front of her, one arm behind him, his hand on her forearm gently leading her towards the cave mouth, keeping the lower vampires between himself and her.

"Stay calm, don't make any sudden movements." he said.

One of them charged at Regis, and Asha felt everything about the vampire in front of her change. Never letting go of her, he took an aggressive step towards the fleder and snarled at it.

The lower vampire stopped in its tracks, and smaller, higher pitched whines could be heard behind the more bestial vampire. A half dozen small, reflective eyes popped out over a rock, the other adult fleder hissed, and the eyes disappeared.

The one who charged made no move to come towards them again, so Regis backed away, towards the mouth of the cave, his eyes never leaving the vampires until they were well and truly out of it. Thankfully, the sun was still not set.

He let go of her and smoothed down his quilted vest.

"Are you alright my dear?"

"I'm fine, just thought I was going to have to fight with a broken blade."

They had to hike a bit of a distance to get back to the main road, luckily the portal didn’t dump them out in a cave halfway across Toussaint.

Regis found himself lost in thought, thankful that Asha didn’t seem terribly chatty either.

He glanced at the witcheress out of the corner of his eye. She had a small, content smile on her face, despite the broken blade she carried.

He knew he shouldn’t be reading into how they fell out of the portal, it was an accident, of course. He was simply too stunned to move off of her immediately, like any gentleman would have. But when she flipped them, the vampire couldn’t deny that her strong thighs on either side of her hips, drawing her sword, her body tensed for battle, her eyes trained on a foe, was quite… _exhilarating_.

Before, she had said that he had looked at her like she was prey, on that regrettable day they were at Tesham Munta. But Regis was far more certain that this woman was far more predatory than he had been since he woke up buried in the woods, headless. She moved like a panther, raw power and precise movements.

Regrettably, her silver sword had met its end in the fight, but even as mist Regis was prepared to fight if she needed the assistance.

What had surprised him though, was the family of fleders that had made their home in the cave on the other side of the illusion.

He wouldn’t let her fight them; the kits would die if both of their parents did, that and her sword was broken, steel mostly useless against the vampires.

The female was the aggressive one, willing and ready to rip the intruders to shreds to protect her kits, something Regis could understand, which is why he merely snarled at them, a warning.

His protection of Asha seemed to come so naturally, so much that he didn’t even realize he was still holding onto her arm until they were well out of the cave.

Instinct, he assumed. She was part of his pack, she was vulnerable with a broken blade, with her blood nearly an aphrodisiac to his kind.

Her voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Thanks for that back there, and for coming with me. Made this little jaunt a little less shitty, all things considering.”

“It was a welcome distraction. This business with Dettlaff has begun to weigh heavily on me.”

“We’ll find the Cintrian, get him to cough up his employer.”

“You still think he is a middleman then?”

“I do. It honestly wouldn’t surprise me if one of your own wasn’t pulling the strings.”

Regis nodded. “The thought has crossed my mind many times. I can’t think of anyone that would have such a vendetta against Dettlaff, however.”

She shrugged. “You sure its not just someone that’s a bit bored?”

“I truly don’t think so. This is all too calculated. It seems far too personal.”

“That’s why I think this is a power grab. Someone is after the duchess.”

“I might speak to Anarietta again, ask for a private conversation about all of this. She is a smart woman, she’ll have a list of potential enemies of her and the duchy memorized.”

“I haven’t told her my theory yet. I was going to pull that captain of hers aside though, tell him to watch out for her, though it’s not like he could stop Dettlaff if he wanted to.”

The vampire sighed. “Dettlaff will not stay his hand, if it comes to it, we will have to guard her, perhaps I can knock some sense into him.”

“We might not have that luxury.”

“I will only resort to violence against him if I must, but _only_ if I must. The fallout of Dettlaff murdering Anarietta will echo across the continent, the Elders will be forced to act, and the fear of higher vampires will drive all of us underground again.”

“We won’t it come to that, Regis. We’re gonna catch this bastard.”

“Your optimism is inspiring, my dear.”

* * *

The sun quickly set not long after they had found the main road again, and Asha elected to find the closest inn to stay at and go back to Corvo Bianco in the morning.

The inn they found was rather small but packed with the villagers at the early evening hour. Asha paid for a room, and a meal for herself.

Regis found a smaller table shoved in a corner that was vacant and claimed it for himself and his companion. Asha sat at the table with a bowl of stew. “There was only one room, I took it. Figured it wouldn’t matter much since you don’t really sleep anyway.”

“That’s quite alright. I’ll simply read through the night.”

“Like you do every night.” She smirked at him.

“Now that’s not true, I often brew new concoctions or grind herbs.”

“It must be nice to not really have to sleep. Or eat.”

“I can eat, I just choose not to.”

A man sauntered over to Asha, interrupting their conversation. He was well into his cups, judging by the way he stumbled, and despite the still rather early hour.

“So,” he sat on her side, and Regis saw his arm creep into her space, his hand resting on the bench. “What’s a capable looking woman doing with an old man like that.”

Regis saw the man’s hand move, and fast - even for the vampire - Asha drew her dagger and stuck it into the wood, at least that’s what he assumed happened, as the drunken man wasn’t screaming. She pulled him in close by the collar of his shirt, nearly nose to nose.

“Apologize, now.”

“I-I sorry, m’lady I won’t let-let my hands wander-“

“No,” she gripped his shirt tighter. “For insulting my friend here.” She loosened her grip enough for the man to turn his head to look at Regis, the vampire’s brows raised in surprise.

“I’m sorry sir- didn’t mean anything by it.”

Regis nodded and she let the man go, who couldn’t scurry away fast enough.

“You didn’t have to do that, my dear. I don’t care how I’m perceived as long as it’s, you know.”

“Stupid boy should learn now before he says something that gets an actual dagger in his hand. Or gut. Besides, I don’t let people just insult those I care about. I’m fair game, I’m a freak. But you just look like your local tax collector.” A smile played with her lips.

“You’re hardly a freak, my dear.”

A blond brow rose. “Says the man that passes more human than I.” she said, her voice low so that others would not overhear.

He chuckled. “This is true, though we both know that people would rather run at the sight of my toothy smile than yours.”

She leaned on elbow on the table, her hand holding up her chin. “You have a nice smile. Even when you show a little fang. It’s more genuine.”

Regis felt warmth stain his cheeks. “I- thank you, my dear.”

She finished her meal in relative silence, the silence stretching into a content, companionable silence despite the raucous noise from the rest of the tavern.

Asha elected to turn in early, so they could get up before dawn and get back to Corvo Bianco quickly.

The room was small, the bed narrow, but built for two. But there was no chair.

Asha noticed this. “You can just sit on half the bed, it’s no big deal.”

“As long as you’re sure-“

“Regis, it’s not a big deal. It’s just a bed, and it’s just sleeping. And I’m the only one sleeping.”

Asha pulled off her weapons, leathers, and boots, and settled into the lumpy mattress. Regis removed his own shoes, his satchel, and his outer jerkin, getting comfortable with his book on the other side.

“Do you want any light?” she muttered.

“No, dark is quite alright.” Asha snapped her fingers and the few candles went out, the only light coming from the edges of the door.

He would be surprised if she managed to get any sleep with the volume of noise coming from the other side of the wooden wall, with how light a sleeper she was. Then again, she had been on the Path for her whole life, she was likely used to such loud noises.

Several hours passed, and eventually the noise from the tavern dissipated.

Regis turned the page of the small leather tome he was reading when he felt something rest against the outer part of his leg.

He glanced down, seeing that Asha had maneuvered from the other side of the bed, her forehead rested gently against his leg, sleeping peacefully.

The vampire paused in all his movements, not even breathing, and stared at her.

Had someone told him just two weeks ago that he would be sharing a bed in an inn with a witcheress that had once on several occasions threated to kill him, he would have laughed and then made sure the person didn't have a concussion.

Some of her long hair had come loose from its braid, and the golden strands were covering part of her cheek. He gently swiped the hair out of her face, lightly tucking it behind her ear. Her eyes fluttered for just a second, and Regis froze. They had been doing so well, getting along as friends, he didn't want to spook her.

She settled again, this time a hand gently resting on his leg, almost using him as a pillow.

Regis's mind flickered back to the cave, how she had looked at him.

He was not naïve; he had been around for more than a few lifetimes. He was well aware of her eyes flickering to his lips before. They had shared many quiet moments together over the last several days, and in each one he found himself focused only on her.

He couldn't get it out of his head, and he knew he was likely not going to.

Regis knew that he was treading a rather slippery slope, but one he knew, as of now, he had his footing on. It was something he had been attributing to their continued proximity, that she was just a likable individual. But no.

Regis sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He cared for Asha, a lot.

"Fuck." He muttered.

Did she care for him as well? Was that even possible? She should hate him; she _did_ hate him. She would hate him again once he told her about their bond. He knew he needed to tell her about it, and soon. But Regis wasn’t sure if he even could now. If she harbored any feelings for him, she would likely attribute them to their bond, not anything natural. And he wasn’t terribly sure if their blood bond _hadn’t_ influenced this in some way.

What if it had?

It would be wrong, to act on an artificial feeling crafted by their bond. It wouldn’t be right, especially if she was unaware of it.

After the party at the Mandragora. There needed to be no issues for their plan to work, he would tell her after that.

Yes, he would tell her after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone else notice that the map of Toussanit is backwards from what it should be??? Like Geralt comes in from the bottom of the map tho he was travling from north to south, so he should be coming from the top??? I did like 45 minutes of searching and checking and critical thinking for one line of directional dialogue someone come slap me please.
> 
> I also just wanna say a huge thank you to everyone that's commented and kudoed this, it really means the world to me. Y'all are the best!!


	7. Update!

Hey y'all, not the update you were wanting :(

I'm not dead! 

So a lot's happened. I have the better part of the next two chapters written, then disaster struck. My computer's motherboard got fried, and it took the better part of a week to get my hard drive back (thank god it also didn't get fried) and then like another week before I got my new computer. In that time, I fell down the Jojo's Bizarre Adventure rabbit hole,,, hard. I had started it during finals and then it just sucked me in. And adhd brain likes to hyperfixate,,, so every time I've tried to work on this fic I just can't. I'll come back to it, but I have no idea when, which I'm sorry that I don't have a better answer for that. And all my writing energy has gone into a damn Jojo fic I can't stop myself from writing so that,,, great I guess. 

I'm slowly getting to catching up a few of my fellow authors that also read this, trying to get myself back into the mood to write for Witcher again, and also to support them because y'all are amazing!

Anyway, if anyone wants to, here's a link to my senior portfolio, <https://www.greenscales-designs.com/portfolio> if you click on the little 'portfolio' box, it'll open a the pdf of the actual printed version! (it works best in a browser!)

Thanks y'all, for being so patient and supporting this! It means so much! Stay safe, and take care! 


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